Sherry's Story
by Akenaten
Summary: Marv's mother, Sherry, runs away to Sin City to escape sexual abuse by her stepfather and ends up in Old Town. This is her story. Warning: Very mature content.
1. Chapter 1

Mom's Story

Disclaimer: I don't have anything owned or associated with the movie Sin City. I'm just borrowing the characters of Marv and his mother for a while…

A/N: This is my interpretation of Marv's mom's story and how she met his dad. This story takes place more than forty years back before we meet Marv. This chapter has strong adult content. You have been warned.

I've seen the movie and made up Marv's parents' history, so what I've written is completely different from what's in the graphic novels. This is told from Marv's mom's POV.

Please R and R!

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I was introduced to sex just after my thirteenth birthday.

I was only seven or so when my real dad died. He was a cop and got shot trying to stop a robbery at a liquor store. He took a bullet that would have killed his partner. His name was Tom. I don't remember the funeral all that much except seeing his big black coffin being lowered into the ground.

Tom started coming over to see my mom and they got to be friends. Less than a year later, he married her. Things were okay, I suppose. He was nice enough to me, and my mom loved him.

When I was twelve, my mom got sick. Things went from bad to worse. My mom's doctor's Toms were a lot of money and my stepdad had to work extra shifts to pay for it. Money was tight and they started arguing, especially late at night when they thought I was sleeping. Sometimes at nights, I'd hear Uncle Tom yelling things at her. Things like that he was a man and if she couldn't do her wifely duty, he'd find someone who could. Then the door would slam and he'd be gone. It broke my heart because I heard my mom crying herself to sleep.

Tom usually stayed away all night. In the morning, he'd be at the breakfast table, bleary-eyed and bad-tempered, reeking of cheap perfume and beer and it made me feel sick.

It was about this time when I first found out that he'd started hitting her. I'd see bruises all over her arms. She'd laugh and try to tell me that she was so clumsy—bumping into this or that but I knew the truth.

As time went on, my mom got sicker. She got so bad that all she could do was lie in bed all day and sleep because of the pain medication. It fell on me to cook and clean and do all the things she used to. I did my best.

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One night, I was wakened by someone coming into my room. At first I thought it was my mom but I could smell the booze and I knew who it was.

"Shh," he whispered. "It's me."

"Is Mom okay?" I asked. It seemed like I had just went to sleep, I was so tired.

"She's fine. Out cold from those damn drugs she takes."

"Then what's wrong?"

"What's wrong? I'll tell you what's wrong. Alice wasn't home when I went to see her and…I'm a man, damn it! It hurts your ma too much when I touch her and then I saw your door was open and figured why not? You're thirteen years old. That's good enough for me."

I clutched the blankets closer to my chest. My stepfather saw me and laughed. It was a harsh, cruel sound and I was afraid.

"Why are you covering up? I know you got tits and if you're anything like your ma, you'll have big ones too. Of course, they're probably real small right now but that'll change in a few years."

I gasped when I felt him touch me. I opened my mouth to scream but he clamped his hand over my mouth.

"Make a sound and I'll make this a lot worse than it has to be. Or better yet, I'll go visit your ma and fuck her until she cries. I've done it before and I'll do it again. Is that what you want? Huh?" He took me by the shoulders and shook me hard. "You want me to hurt her?"

"No," I said. I could feel the tears as they slipped down my cheeks. My mom was dying; she had suffered enough. I wouldn't let him touch her again.

"That's my girl," he said and patted my head. I whimpered when I heard him take off his clothes. "Now, you be real quiet. If you make a noise or fight back, I'll make this worse than it has to be. Take off your nightgown and don't cover yourself up. I want to take a look at you."

I did as he asked. He stared at my body for a long time. "Well, well," he said. "To think that you've been under my roof for all this time and I never appreciated what a pretty girl you really are."

He reached out and caressed my breast. I had only started filling out; in my opinion, there wasn't much to see. At school I'd noticed the boys looking at me differently and it made me feel scared. I saw the same look in Uncle Tom's eyes now.

I tried not to cringe when he pinched my nipple until it hardened. I noticed his breathing became heavier as his hand roamed all over my body. He touched my arms, shoulders before sliding down over my waist and down to my hip. I was really frightened now.

"Uncle Tom? Please don't…" I whispered.

"Shh. It's gonna be okay, Sherry. I'm just seeing if your body is developing the way it should, that's all. I'm not going to hurt you unless you give me a reason to."

He stopped speaking suddenly and I knew why. We'd both heard my mother in the next room call his name. He threw my nightgown at me and pulled on his pants and shirt and left the room as quickly as he'd come. I thanked God for whatever it was that woke my mother up for I knew what would happen if he hadn't been interrupted. However, my relief was short lived when he came back less than an hour later.

"I gave your mother more of her pills. She'll be out like a light until morning," he said with a sly grin. "And I can pick up exactly where I left off." He licked his lips. He took his pants off and quickly spread my legs. He spit on his fingers and smeared it all over my cunt lips.

"What are you doing?"

"It won't hurt as much if you're a little wet. There, that should do it," he muttered.

Without any warning, he shoved his dick into me and I couldn't breathe. Mom always told me a girl's first time always hurt but I wasn't prepared for what I was feeling. It hurt so much!

"Christ, you are so tight," he groaned. He was only able to go an inch or two inside me. I thought he would stop because he couldn't fit but he braced his feet against the footboard of my bed to give him leverage. He bucked his hips hard and with two or three more plunges, he was all the way in.

He started moving faster and I cried out from the pain. He clamped his hand hard over my mouth. I could feel my tears fall down into my hair. His body shook and he groaned. I felt him go soft inside of me. Once his breathing was back to normal, Uncle Tom pulled out of me and I curled up into a ball. I heard him zip up his pants and leave the room. I buried my face in my pillow and cried.

He came to my room regularly after that first night but he always made sure my mom was drugged so we wouldn't be interrupted. When I had my period, I thought he'd have the decency to leave me alone for those few days of the month but I was wrong.

"There's more than one way for you to please me," he said, closing the door behind him.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Kneel in front of me," he ordered. He undid his pants and I saw that he was already hard. When I didn't obey, he grabbed me by the hair and forced me to my knees. I didn't know what to do so I just looked up at him, waiting for further instructions. "Goddamn it, girl, don't just kneel there—put me in your mouth."

I couldn't help but be disgusted. He wanted to put the thing he used to pee with in my mouth? I gasped when he jerked me towards him by the hair.

I opened my mouth as wide as I could and took the head inside. His cock felt warm and smooth and I could feel it getting harder.

"Deeper," Tom ordered and I tried to obey but I didn't go as fast as he wanted. I gagged when he thrust himself fully into my mouth. The rough hair around his dick tickled my nose and I hated it. This was awful and getting more icky by the minute!

He face fucked me for a long time and my jaw was getting sore. All of a sudden, his hips jerked and I felt a hot, salty liquid slam into the back of my throat. I couldn't move my head because Tom had grabbed me by the ears and wouldn't let go. The minute he did, I spit onto the floor—there was no way I was going to swallow _that_!

He saw what I did and punched me in the jaw. "Don't you _ever_ do that again! The next time I make you do this, you will swallow all of it or I will knock your teeth out, do you understand?"

But I wasn't raised to be a coward. When I could breathe again, I got to my feet and stared Tom in the eye. "You stick that in my mouth again and I'm gonna bite it off."

"You do that and I'll kill you," he snarled.

"Go ahead. Kill me. But I'll have my teeth so far in your dick, you'll need a crowbar to open my mouth. I'll be dead and you'll have to pee through a tube for the rest of your life!"

He stared at me but didn't say a word. He knew I was right. He beat me black and blue but never asked me to suck him off again. But he did hurt me in another way….the next time I had my period, he came to my room and without a word, flipped me over so that I was lying on my stomach.

He reached down and spread my cheeks apart without a word. Before I could ask him what the hell he was doing, he rammed his cock up my ass. He reached under me and twisted my nipples so hard I cried.

"Do you think I'm actually gonna let a little cunt like you is going to tell me what she will or won't do under my roof? I don't think so." He laughed harshly and continued to pound into me. I begged him to stop but I discovered that the more I cried, the more he liked it. "You won't suck me off anymore? That's ok with me. I can always fuck your ass when you're on the rag."

It didn't take long for him to come and I was grateful for that. But there was one more lesson Tom taught me but that wasn't until a few months later.

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Tom slid his finger from my breasts and down my belly. I didn't have a clue what he was going to do. With more gentleness than he had ever shown me, he parted my cunt lips and I twitched. He chuckled.

"It's about time you learned about this."

I could feel myself feeling very strange. It was as if I never wanted him to stop. What was happening down there? Why was I feeling this way?

It was as if something was building inside of me and the more Uncle Tom's finger moved against me, the better I felt. I was breathing faster now; it was as if I had forgotten how to breathe. All I could concentrate on was how good it felt between my legs.

"You're getting wet, aren't you, my little slut?" he said and I could hear the smug tone in his voice. I hated to admit it but he was right. It seemed like he had another lesson to teach me. All of a sudden, he stopped and I moaned in frustration.

"You want me to keep going?"

"Yes!" I cried.

"Then beg. Beg me like the shameless hussy that you are. If you don't, then I'll leave you alone."

I bit my lips so that I wouldn't utter a word. Fine, leave, I thought but my body was my master now. I felt him move away. No! He couldn't leave me like this!

"Please….don't," I said, my teeth clenched together.

"Don't what?"

"Don't leave." I couldn't believe what I was saying.

"You want more? Then tell me exactly what you want."

"I don't know how!"

"Tell me: I need to feel you touching me in my pussy. Tell me that you want to come. C'mon, sherry, I know you want it. You are so hot for me, aren't you? You are such a dirty little girl. _Say it_!"

"Please!"

"Nope. Not until you beg me. "

"I need…to...feel…you touching my pussy. I am such a dirty little girl. I am so hot for you…" Oh God, what the fuck was I saying??

"Atta girl. I knew you'd see it my way."

He moved his hand down and I spread my legs wider but he wasn't done humiliating me yet.

"When a woman is horny, her cunt gets wet and you, little girl, are dripping" He swirled his fingers over and around my pussy. It felt good but I didn't know what he was talking about. Suddenly, he poked them in my mouth. I tasted something on his fingers; it was wet and sticky and kind of sweet. "See? These are _your_ cunt juices. It's your body's way of saying to a man how hot you are."

I felt tears of humiliation leak down my face but I didn't care. My entire world now revolved around what my mother's husband was doing to me. He started fingering me again and I felt the pressure inside me rising. It burst and I cried out as wave after wave of pure bliss racked my body. I never wanted it to end.

I barely had time to catch my breath before I felt Tom move and he slid easily into me. It didn't hurt at all. It felt good and I hated myself. I wanted to fight, scream and scratch but I couldn't. My hips moved on their own accord and I felt myself counterthrusting against him. I wrapped my legs around his hips so he could go farther into me.

It felt so _fucking_ good!

I felt the pressure rising again and I gave myself up to it. I couldn't fight it--my body controlled me now. When I had my second orgasm, I raked my nails down his back and arched my back. Tom ignored it and started moving faster and I felt his cock shudder deep inside me.

Two weeks later, my mom died. The house was full of people stopping by but I wasn't aware of anything. I felt dead inside. Once they were all gone, Tom locked the front door and turned me to face him.

"Now that your ma's gone you and I don't have to be quiet anymore. I can fuck you all I want and no one's gonna stop me." He pushed me against the wall and started kissing me, his hands going under my shirt to feel my tits.

He ground his hips into mine and I could feel his erection straining against his the front of his pants. I thought he was going to march me to the bedroom but he didn't. He unzipped his trousers and shoved his underwear down so that they were in a pile on the floor. Still keeping me pinned against the wall, he reached under my skirt and pushed my panties out of the way.

With one hard shove, he was inside me. I wasn't wet at all and it hurt. I cried out but Tom just laughed and continuing thrusting inside me. I don't know how long it lasted but he eventually came. When he was done, he backed away from me.

"I'm going out for a drink. Make sure supper's on the table when I get back." Without another word, he left the house.

I slid to the floor and started crying. I knew that since we were alone now, there would be no end to it. Tom would fuck me whenever he felt like. There was no one I could tell either; he was a cop and I knew that he would never be charged or arrested. In fact, he would probably beat me for saying anything in the first place.

My only hope of escape was either killing myself or running away.

I don't know how long I sat on the floor but eventually I got up and fixed something for dinner.

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As I expected, Tom came to my bedroom that night but I had had enough of my stepfather and his demands on my body. In the dark I could hear him take off his clothes and I waited. When he pried my legs apart, I was ready for him. I only had one shot. It had to work. I took a deep breath and kicked him in the crotch and he went down. While he was groaning on the bed, I grabbed some clothes and his wallet. But before I left, I brought a lamp down on his head as hard as I could and left the house before he came to. If he had caught me, he would've killed me, I am sure of it.

He didn't have much money in his wallet but there was enough for a one-way ticket to Basin City. It was the middle of the night when I arrived. Hardly anyone was around, except a few homeless people pushing their shopping carts. It was a cold night, I decided to sleep in the bus station, and the next day I would figure out what to do. I curled up in a corner where no one would see me and tried to sleep.

"Got anyplace to go, honey?" a woman's voice asked.

I opened my eyes and looked at her. From the way she was dressed, I could tell she was a prostitute. She wasn't young, maybe in her forties or so but for some reason I couldn't explain, I trusted her right away.

"No." I said, sitting up. "I don't know where to go. I ran away."

"How old are you?"

"Fourteen."

"Fourteen, huh? Life at home was so bad you decided to take your chances on the street? Christ. "

I raised my chin. "Yeah. At least on the street, my stepfather can't hurt me anymore."

She sat down beside me. "I know what that's like, kiddo. Ain't life weird? Total strangers treat you better than your own family."

"Are you alone too?" I asked.

"Me? Nah. I've got my own family. We look out for each other. Where I live isn't the fanciest part of town, but we make sure that no one hurts one of our own."

I frowned. What was she talking about? She must have seen the look on my face and her expression became soft and tender. For some reason, I trusted her. Maybe it was because I was alone and I didn't have much money. If someone was willing to be nice to me, I wasn't going to ask the reason why.

"We live in Old Town. The red-light district. You do know what that is, don't you?"

"Yeah. It's where hookers…I mean, um—" I was trying to think of a polite word for what she was and couldn't. I remembered a term my Nana told me a long time ago. "Ladies of the evening?" I said, hesitantly. I was relieved when she threw back her head and laughed.

"Christ! I haven't heard that for years! That is too funny! Wait 'til Momma hears that one!" She wiped tears of laughter from her eyes.

"_Momma_?" I asked.

"That's what we call her. She looks after us and in return, we give her a part of our earnings. She gets us the better clients. If any guy who treats us bad—slapping or hitting--he'd have to answer to her and she don't take kindly to anyone roughing us up."

"What if someone does hurt you?"

"He'd have to pay for the girl's lost wages, Momma's cut, and doctor's Toms. If he doesn't pay up, she takes care of him. She's been workin' Old Town so long, she's got connections. In the good and bad places. All she has to do is snap her fingers and he's taken of. And he doesn't come around Old Town anymore. Ever. You get my meaning, girl?" She looked at me and I knew exactly what she meant.

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"Where's Momma?" Rita yelled as we went inside. I snuck a look around and was surprised to see that it was a lot nicer than I expected. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, I thought.

"This is not a barn, Rita," a woman's voice said. "You keep yelling like that and you'll scare all the gents away. Now who do we have here?" she asked, looking at me.

She was a tall woman and even though she was wearing what I thought was too much makeup, I liked her immediately.

"I found her in the bus stop," Rita said, putting her arm around my shoulders.

"How young are you, sweetie?"

"Fourteen," I said shyly.

"And what's a young thing like you doing on the streets?" she asked.

"I ran away. I had to. My stepfather…"

she raised her hand. "I don't need to hear anymore. I understand." She walked around me and looked me over. "You'll do very nicely for some of our older clients but that won't be for a while yet. Tonight, I'll find a place for you to sleep and we'll figure things out tomorrow. Show her to Brandy's old room, Rita and come back down."

Rita took me upstairs and told me where to wash up. When that was done, she brought me to the place I would be calling home. It was a small bedroom but it was clean. I changed into a nightgown that Momma provided and got under the covers.

For the first time in a long time, I wasn't afraid to fall asleep. I did not need to fear anyone touching me in the middle of the night. I fell asleep almost immediately.

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A/N: sorry for this chapter being so short…but it will get better as time goes on.

Please Read and Review!


	2. Such a Young Girl

Such a Young Girl

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Sin City the movie or the graphic novels.

A/N: My story has nothing to do with the plotline in the novels. This chapter contains adult material: Fisting, Non-con, sodomy and sexual violence.

Please R and R!

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The next morning after I arrived, I sat down with Momma at the kitchen table.

"How did you sleep?" she asked.

I smiled. "Very well. If didn't get a chance to thank you last night…"

Momma raised her hand and I was silent. "First: As you may know, I run a whorehouse, not a shelter for runaway teenage girls. If you want to stay here, you will work as the other girls do. Men will come here. They will pay me and you will do whatever they ask—that includes sex. I will protect you from anyone who wants to hurt you. If they do hurt you, they will pay for it."

"Second: You have two choices: you can go back where you came from and live with your stepfather. That's if he isn't already dead of course. Or you can stay.

"Third: if you choose to remain here, I will give you a contract. When it is paid off, then you can leave."

"A contract for how much?"

"Ten thousand dollars."

I stared at her, my mouth open in disbelief. It would take me forever to make that kind of money!

"You are forgetting one very important thing--how quickly it is paid off depends entirely on you. But before you make your mind up, let me tell you that an hour with you will cost a man fifty dollars. If you are diligent and work hard, you should be able to pay that off very quickly. What do you say? You may have killed a cop, and if so, you will be charged and put in prison for the rest of your life. That's not much of a future for a girl with her whole life ahead of her. It's your choice."

"How long do I have to make up my mind? It's a big decision," I asked.

"This time tomorrow night, I expect an answer." She got up and left me in the kitchen to think about my future.

What could I do? What if I _had_ killed Tom? She was right. If he was dead, I would be hunted down until I was found. Living as a whore wasn't on my list of careers but as Momma said, how soon I was released from my contract depended entirely on how hard I was going to work. Yes, I would have to have sex with strange men but she said she'd protect me.

I gave it a lot of thought but I didn't have a choice: I had to stay. The next evening I told Momma what I decided.

"Good. I think it might be to your advantage if you dressed younger than you really are. You will be perfect for a select group of our clientele whose tastes run to young girls. I'm also changing your name that reflects your youth: From now on, you will be known as Cherry. And I know exactly who your first client will be: Senator Roarke. You'll be seeing him next week."

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I was sitting in my favourite chair in the reception room. It was where men who wanted sex could sit and look over the girls who were available for hire and make their selection. The room was furnished in simple but good taste and if you were coming there for the first time, you never would have guessed this place was a whorehouse.

It was quiet that night and most of the girls were watching television or reading. When I first arrived at Momma's house, I expected the girls who lived there to wear revealing clothes or too much makeup but Momma's wasn't that kind of whorehouse. It was one of the better classes of bordellos in the city. If a man just wanted a cheap fuck, there were always the prostitutes on street corners, but if a man wanted quality and was prepared to pay for it, he came to us. Momma prided herself on having the best and healthiest girls in town.

I saw Momma come in.

"May I have your attention please, ladies?" She stood in the centre of the large room and waited until everyone was quiet. "Senator Roarke informed me that he is hosting a party tomorrow night. The President will be there. I don't think I need to tell you what that means." She raised her eyebrow in a peculiar way and we all understood her. These parties meant some of the richest and most powerful men in the state were going to be there and high rollers meant high tips. For the most part, attendance was voluntary but almost everyone wanted to go to his parties. Many a girl had walked out of one of those shindigs with a thousand dollars in her pocket.

A thousand dollars or not, nothing in hell could ever make me go back there. Once had been enough.

"However," she continued when the excited buzzing stopped. "Some of his bodyguards and other staff will be coming here, so those of you who aren't going to the party, be on your best behaviour. They'll be here at eight."

"Which ones are coming?" asked a girl to my left.

"Bruiser, Big Ben, Tim and Alex."

The women who had been in Momma's employ longer than me knew each of the men who owned these names well. Bruiser and Big Ben were regulars but I'd only been at Momma's but I've never seen either.

"If the Senator is having a party, why are they coming here?" I couldn't help but ask. I was curious. The other girls laughed at me but Momma shut them up.

"Because, Cherry, the President will be at the Senator's mansion and it will be full of Secret Service agents, FBI and a lot of men from other law enforcement agencies from all across the country. No one in their right mind would try anything there. His house will be the safest place in the state."

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I was in two minds about meeting the Senator's bodyguards but I didn't really have anything else to do that evening. I could have used the money but I needed sleep more. I didn't put too much makeup on and wore a nice skirt and a top. There was a very good chance I wouldn't get selected—according to Momma, there were only four of them and there were at least twenty girls they could have their pick from. By the time I got downstairs, they were already there; there were four of the biggest men I ever saw, none of which I'd want to meet up with in a dark alley.

"I'll take the little one," a tall man said, staring at me and licking his lips. "So you're the new girl I've been hearing so much about. The Roarke boys told me all about you. Yeah, you'll do. I'd love to have your tight pussy around me and I'm just the right man to break it in properly. You're coming with me." He grabbed my arm hard and I cried out.

He had a long scar down the left side of his face and he looked mean. Really mean. All the girls called him Bruiser and from the tidbits of information I picked up, he was rough with every one. After he was done with any of the girls, I noticed that none of them could sit down properly for a day or two after that. Momma didn't like him going anywhere near us but whatever internal damage he did and medical bills the girl needed afterward, Senator Roarke always took care of it, paying Momma generously for the girl's lost wages. I cringed at the thought of him touching me.

"No, she won't. She's mine," said a deep voice behind him. Even though Bruiser was a large man, he looked like a dwarf next to the one who had spoken.

"Back off, you dumb fuck," Bruiser warned, standing up to his full height but even so, he was still a good four inches shorter than the man who had spoken for me. "Find someone else. She's mine."

"You want to make something of it, _Leslie_? I'd love to see you try. Let's give the lady the deciding vote."

"Lady?! She's not a lady! We pay 'em, we fuck 'em--that makes her a tramp. She's not from the Society section of the newspaper. She's nothing but a fucking whore!"

The next thing I knew, Bruiser was on the floor, holding his jaw and his nose was bleeding.

"What the fuck did you hit me for?" Bruiser yelled.

"Your daddy obviously never taught you to show respect to women, did he? If I ever see you do that again, you'll get more of the same. You got a problem with that?" His voice was low and controlled and judging from the look on Bruiser's face, he had learned the hard way what happened when his opponent got pissed off.

Bruiser shook his head.

"I didn't think so." My date sneered at Bruiser and took me by the arm. I was shocked that such a large man could be as gentle as he was. "Which room is yours?" he asked and we left. The door to my room closed behind us and I locked it.

"What's your name?" he asked, looking down at me.

The top of my head was barely level with his chin. "Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine," I said, trying to put on a brave face. This guy's chest and shoulders were so wide, I'd bet anything he'd have to walk through doorways sideways just so he could get in. I hoped he wouldn't be too rough.

"Fair enough," he said with a smile. "You wanna sit down?"

"Sure." He was so tall; my neck was beginning to hurt from looking up at him. I sat down and held my hands in my lap and waited for him to make the first move. Usually when I was with a man, once the door to the room was closed, they couldn't wait to get their clothes off and inside me as soon as they could.

I waited but he didn't do anything. I couldn't help but stare at him. He was the ugliest man I had ever seen. He reminded me of pictures I'd seen in school about what cavemen looked like: a sloping forehead and a jutting jaw but the only difference between them and this guy was that his knuckles didn't drag on the ground and he walked upright.

For some reason I thought he looked familiar to me somehow but I couldn't remember where or when I'd seen him before.

He had taken off his jacket and there was the biggest gun I had ever seen strapped in a harness under his right arm. I gulped, wondering how many times he had used it. I took a deep breath and tried to carry on our conversation as if I hadn't seen it. "Don't worry, I only use it when I have to."

"I'm glad," I said. "Listen, I just wanted to say thanks for what you did downstairs, Mister, er…"

"Ben."

"Thanks, Ben."

"Don't mention it. What's your name?" he asked.

"Before I came here, my name was Sherry but Momma changed it to Cherry."

"I'll bet. Why are you here, Sherry?"

"Well, I'm here 'cause you paid for me."

"No, I didn't mean it like that. I mean why are you even working for Momma in the first place? You're too young to be sold to men You should be at home playing with dolls and trying on makeup and stuff."

I shrugged. "This _is_ my home now. I've known worse. That's why I ran away. Momma treats me good. It's not too bad."

"Yeah, I guess so."

I glanced at the clock. We'd already been talking for fifteen minutes. If he wasn't going to start something, it was up to me to do it. That was one of the first rules that Momma taught me. She'd told me that some men were just plain shy and afraid to make the first move. It would be up to me. I put my hand on his knee. There was no reaction and I stole a look at Ben. His face was turned away and he seemed to be thinking about something. My hand went higher, to his thigh this time. I was about to move it again when he grabbed my wrist.

"What's wrong? Don't you want to?" I asked.

"I don't screw little girls. In case you haven't noticed, I ain't the Senator."

"In case _you_ haven't noticed," I said, pressing my shoulders back so he could see my 36C chest. "I'm not a kid. I'm nearly fifteen."

"Christ," Ben shook his head. "Look, Sherry, you're really nice and all. Thanks for the offer, but no."

"Can I ask why you chose me?"

"I didn't want Leslie to get his hands on you," he said. "He likes to hurt women."

"I know. I've seen what he does to some of the other girls. I'm glad you came along when you did, Ben."

"So am I, kid."

"Why don't you wanna fuck me? Are you a queer?" I asked. I wasn't trying to piss him off; I was just trying to figure him out. I never had a trick say no to me before.

Ben threw back his head and laughed. "A fag? Me? Hell no! To answer your question, I chose you because…I wanted to see how you were."

He said the last sentence so quietly I could barely hear him. I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd seen this man somewhere before. He was so familiar to me. It was maddening. "How long have you been working for the Senator?"

"I started working for him when I was a little older than you. Worked my way up the ladder until I got to where I am now. I've been his main bodyguard for nearly ten years. I stay in the background so I can see but not be seen."

I knew what he meant. Roarke only surrounded himself with good looking guys—all spit and polish in their fancy suits and flashy cars.

"Why aren't you at the party if you're his number one man?"

Ben shrugged. "I've been to enough of his parties. If you've seen one, you've seen them all."

"But the President is going to be there!"

"Big deal. Besides, I've met him before, anyway. Seeing him again is nothing special. I had the chance to take the night off and I did."

"Are you a hitman?" I asked, curious in spite of myself.

"Sometimes."

"Wow," I said and I couldn't believe that I was sitting here on a bed passing the time of day with a real, honest-to-God killer! "Can you teach me how to use a gun?" I said and pointed to his sidearm.

"That's Matilda," Ben said, proudly patting his gun.

"Your _gun_ has a _name_?" I couldn't believe it.

"Yup. I took it off of the meanest kid in my neighbourhood when I was growing up. Besides teaching you how to use a gun, I'll teach you how to defend yourself. You know, hand to hand stuff."

"That'd be great!" This was getting better and better, I thought. In my line of work, knowing how to handle a gun and how to get myself out of bad situations was a definite bonus.

For no good reason, I looked at his huge hands and wondered if he'd ever choked someone to death with them. They were so big, he could probably do it one-handed without breaking a sweat. What would he do to me if I pissed him off?

But despite that, I'd rather be here in this lousy room than at the Senator's house. If a girl screamed here, someone would come to investigate, but at the Roarke estate, she could scream for hours and no one would help.

I should know—it happened to me.

lllll

"_Well, well, look what we have here," the Senator said, dropping to one knee before me. He was wearing a silk maroon bathrobe that looked very expensive. He smiled at me in a way that made my skin crawl but I didn't know what to do. "You can go now," he said, dismissing his bodyguards. "What's your name, little girl?" he said and the two other men in the room snickered and looked at one another._

"_Cherry."_

"_How appropriate. How long have you been working for Momma?"_

"_Nearly two weeks. You're my first customer."_

"_Really? I'm honoured that she chose me to break you in. Well, shall we get to know each other a little better?" He rose to his full height and took my hand, leading me to the king-sized bed. _

_I looked shyly at the two younger men who showed neither signs of embarrassment nor any intention of leaving us alone. "Are they going to stay?"_

"_Of course they are. They are my sons. The younger one is going to fill my shoes as Senator when my term is up and the other wants to make the Church and serve God." He shook his head. "So I figured that I'd introduce you to him and see what he does to you. You see, Cherry, when a man gets be my age, he hopes to have grandchildren one day and if he's going to shut himself up away from women, then I won't get any from him, will I? So it's up to you to change his mind about being celibate. And I know you'll a good job, won't you?"_

_There was an implied threat in his tone. I shivered and I felt cold sweat slide down my back. The Senator got on the bed and removed his robe, pointing to his half-erect dick. "Suck," he ordered. I straddled his hips and did what he wanted. The Senator shoved my head back down so far I gagged._

"_Deeper! Keep going until I tell you to stop!" I could tell he was going to come soon and I doubled my efforts to get him off so I could give my sore mouth a rest. But it seemed he had something else in mind for me. He shoved me off and grabbed my by the hair. "I want to fuck you now."_

_I positioned myself over him, thinking I'd go slowly so I could get used to him but that was not on his mind. He shoved me down onto his dick and I yelped from the pain. I wasn't lubricated at all but he kept thrusting upward with his hips until he was all the way inside me. He made me sit up straight so he could go as deep as possible. The head of his cock kept hitting my cervix with each thrust and the pain was so bad that I started to cry._

"_She wants to cry?" the Senator said between thrusts, "then by all means let's give her something to cry about, son." _

_I felt a finger poke its way into my ass and wiggle around a bit. It was more uncomfortable than painful. If that was all he was going to do, I thought I could handle it._

_Little did I know what he had in mind for me..._

"_I'll have to use some lube. She's too tight, Father."_

"_Don't waste it on her. Just fuck her as she is."_

_I bit my lip as I felt a huge mushroom head of a hard cock begin to enter me. Whoever he was, the man behind me grabbed me by the thighs for leverage and he began thrusting into me, each push hurting more and more until I thought I was going to pass out. _

"_No," I begged. "Don't do this..."_

"_Shut up, cunt! Did anyone give you the right to talk? Keep going."_

_The man's passage inside my ass was slow and excruciating but it became easier when I started bleeding. He was tearing me apart! My stepdad Tom was as gentle as a lamb in comparison. _

_I don't know how long it lasted. I remembered hearing both men groan as they came inside of me at the same time. Thank God it was over! As soon as they withdrew their cocks from my body, I curled up into a ball on the bed. I could feel the blood and cum leaking from my ass and pussy but I didn't care._

_But I had forgotten about the third man in the room and this one, even though he seemed mild-mannered and quiet, was the most sadistic of the three. I was bleeding but he didn't care. I struggled to get away from him but I felt his father pin my shoulders down while his brother spread my legs. He slowly rolled up his sleeve as if he had all the time in the world. He put one, then two, and finally three fingers all the way inside of me. I arched my back and screamed when he put four inside. I hoped that someone would come and see what was wrong._

"_Go ahead and scream all you want," the Senator hissed in my ear. "No one will help you. As far as the staff in this house is concerned, you were never here. You don't exist."_

_I looked into the face of the man who was fist-fucking me and I could tell by the crazed look on his face, he was enjoying my pain. The more I cried, the harder and faster he shoved his fingers into me, with each thrust, his hand went further and further inside. _

"_See if you can fit your fist into her, brother," the other young man said, edging closer so he could have a better view. "I want to hear her scream."_

_Even though I had been ordered not to talk, I couldn't help myself. "Please…don't do this!" _

_When his fist went into me, I couldn't breathe. I couldn't scream. I only remember praying to God that I would die. But I didn't. I don't know how long it lasted but when it was over, I heard the Senator slap his sons on the back._

"_Tell Ben to come in and clean this place up—stupid bitch bled everywhere! The sheets and blankets will all have to be replaced. After he's done, tell him to bring this piece of garbage back to Momma's." His foot lashed out and kicked me in the ribs, knocking the wind out of me._

_Garbage. That's all I was to them. I wasn't a woman, I was trash--something to be used up and thrown out when they were done with me._

_The next thing I remember was being picked up and carried out of the room. I didn't care if the man holding me was going to kill me—if I was dead, then they couldn't hurt me anymore._

_I heard the sound of running water and I cried out when my body was lowered into a Jacuzzi. It hurt at first but the hot bubbling water took away some of the pain. I flinched when I felt a cloth being rubbed gently over my body but the man who was bathing me told me in a soft voice he wouldn't hurt me. He tried to be gentle with me but even so, it hurt like hell._

"_You poor child," he said. His voice was gravelly and deep but I liked it anyway. By his tone, I could tell how sad he was. "Poor, poor little girl." _

_I felt safe in his arms and opened my eyes. The only thing I remembered was that he had blue eyes and they were kind and full of sympathy. I wanted to tell him thanks for what he had done but I had screamed so much I didn't have a voice anymore. The only sound that came out of my mouth was a croak. _

_The man got up and put a glass of water in my hands. He helped me sit up. I drank as much as I could and I felt better. I reached up and touched the man's face to show my appreciation and he smiled at me. I felt myself being taken out of the water. I looked down and saw that the water was red. He wrapped me up in a blanket and I felt a towel being put between my legs to stop the bleeding._

_I blacked out for good after that and the next thing I remember was waking up in the hospital…_

lllll

I shuddered at the memory and I felt tears start to burn in my eyes. Before I knew what happened, I was in Ben's arms and he was holding me as I cried.

"That's okay, kid. Let it out."

And I did. I don't know how long I cried but Ben held me through it all; he stroked my hair and his arms were a haven I wished I could have forever. I never felt so safe, so loved as I did while he held me.

"I saw what they did. I was the one who took care of you afterward, do you remember?" he asked quietly, his lips against my hair.

Now I knew where I'd seen him before! Ben was the one who picked me up off the floor. He was the one who put me in the bath and gently cleaned the blood and cum from my body. He showed me the only kindness anyone gave me in that awful house. I had to thank him. I turned my head and kissed his scarred cheek. My lips lingered on his skin, telling him without words that if he wanted more than just a kiss, I would gladly give it to him.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"No problem. Such a pretty girl like you shouldn't be in a place like this, especially with a man like me."

"You're not so bad."

"Even if I look the way I do?" He was teasing me now to lighten my mood and I felt a sudden rush of tender feeling for the big lug.

"Well, you are _kinda_ scary looking…." I meant it as a joke until I saw the look on his face and I immediately felt sorry for the remark I just made. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be mean. Sometimes my mouth just opens and my brain shuts off. What I mean to say is—aw, shit. I like you, Ben. I like you a lot."

"I like you too, Sherry," he said.

I took his face between my hands and kissed him. He didn't pull away and I heard his breath catch in his throat and he wrapped his arms around me. For several long, lovely moments he kissed me back. It was the first time I'd ever felt anything when a man kissed me. But before I could deepen the kiss, he gently pulled away from me and took my hands in his.

"Why'd you stop?" I asked. "Didn't you like it?"

He sighed deeply. "Kid, I've got nothing against you so don't think I'm rejecting you but you're too young. I'm nearly forty and you're not even fifteen yet. I'm old enough to be your father! But if it's okay, I would like to talk to you again."

"I'd like that," I said and laid my hand on his shoulder before touching his face again. "You're a nice guy, Ben," I smiled at him. A strange look came over his face and he jerked away.

"No I'm not," Ben said, his voice sharp and angry. "Don't ever say that to me again! I am _not_ a nice man. I've killed a helluva lot of people and beaten up even more. I am as far from nice as you can get. C'mon, my hour's up." He put on his jacket and buttoned it all the way up even though the night was warm.

I nodded and he helped me to my feet. You don't want me now, I thought, but you will. I'd been with enough men by now to know that he was aroused. Ben probably thought I hadn't noticed his hard-on when he kissed me, but I did. Let me put it this way: he wasn't named Big Ben because of how tall he was.

The age difference between us didn't bother me but apparently, it was a sore point with Ben. However, I knew that no matter what he was—hitman, bodyguard, whatever--Ben was still a man. He already told me he wanted to see me again. It wasn't much, but it was a start. He didn't realize it yet, but I was determined to repay my debt to him by returning the love and kindness he had shown me.

We entered the hallway. I watched as Ben gave Momma her money and couldn't help but feel sorry for the guy. He just spent fifty dollars for one hour and we didn't even have sex! All we did was talk. Not only that, he left a twenty dollar tip!

"Er, Sable? May I speak to you for a moment?" He glanced up and saw me looking at the two of them and whispered something to her and she nodded.

While Ben was talking to Sable, Momma took me aside and told me that Ben asked to see me tomorrow if that was all right.

"You can refuse, you know. You don't have to," Momma said.

"No, I'd love to see him again. I really would."

"How was he?" she asked, lowering her voice and looking at me eagerly, hoping that I would satisfy her curiosity. When I said nothing, she peered at me, running her gaze over my body in search in injuries. "Did he hurt you? If he did, I'll kick his ass…"

Suddenly I felt very angry at her words. She was pretending to get upset when she could tell that I wasn't harmed by Ben but I remembered that she didn't blink an eye when she saw what Roarke and his sons did to me. Her lack of concern about my condition in the hospital and what she said to me afterward hurt me even now but I didn't say anything about that, either.

"No, he didn't hurt me at all. Being with him was ….like nothing I expected. I'm tired, Momma, I'd like to get some rest."

I went to the kitchen and fixed myself something to eat. I tried to ignore the questions the other girls were firing at me: How did I like Big Ben? Did he hurt me? Could I sit down?

I kept my anger in check as much as I could and answered their stupid questions with as little detail as possible. It was none of their damn business what I did with Ben! I was about to lose my temper when a girl called Sable took me aside and explained the situation.

"I know you think they're nosy but it's not that."

"It's none of their business!" I fumed. "I don't ask them how their dates went, so what gives them the right to ask about mine?"

"Since you've come here, a lot of us see you as a younger sister. And especially after what happened to you at the Senator's, you're someone that we look out for. They're only asking because they care about you. Let's face it, Cherry. Ben wouldn't have to do too much to really hurt you, would he? Look at the size of him!"

"He didn't lay a hand on me, Sable." I hastily corrected myself to cover the accidental slip. Even though Sable was my best friend here, I wasn't going to tell her the truth. Only Ben and I would know what happened. "I meant that he was nice to me and didn't force me to do anything I didn't want to."

"So he didn't hurt you?"

"No he didn't." I opened my mouth to ask what she and Ben had been talking about but decided not to. It didn't take a genius to figure it out. Since he didn't want to sleep with me because he thought I was too young, it was only natural that he'd want someone else to fill his needs. It was their business not mine, but I still couldn't explain a twinge of jealousy that I felt. I excused myself, heading back to my room. I felt the need to be alone; to stare at my ceiling and remember every detail of the one precious hour I spent with Ben. I couldn't stop thinking about him.

I knew that I was having second thoughts about staying in Sin City. Should I go back to my stepfather? What he did to me was horrible, but nowhere near as awful as what I went through at the Roarke estate. Was this going to be my life until my debt was paid off? Being raped and abused every time I was paid for? Should I leave and go back to where I came from?

It occurred to me that if I left, I wouldn't be able to see Ben again. And that was something that I really wanted to do. But I had to be realistic about our chances together--why would a decent man like Ben want me? He'd only want to be around me when he needed a woman to satisfy him but once he started thinking about getting a wife and kids, he wouldn't look in my direction, that's for sure.

I had to face facts: no matter how much Ben _liked_ me, there would be no way in hell that he'd _love_ me. His friend had been right: I was nothing but a whore. I would never be anyone's wife. And because of what the Senator and his sons did to me, I would never be a mother.

I curled up into a ball and jammed my knees under my chin and cried until I slept.


	3. The Date

The Date

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Sin City the movie or the graphic novels.

A/N: My story has nothing to do with the plotline in the novels. This chapter contains adult material: Oral.

Please Read and Review!

lll

An hour or so later, I heard a soft knock at the door. "Come in," I called out. The door opened and I saw Sable framed in the doorway. I was happy to see her. I invited her in and moved over in bed so she could sit beside me. My face was wet from tears and I brushed them away with my hand so Sable wouldn't see that I had been crying.

"There's no need to do that, Cherry. I heard you crying in your sleep."

"I'm sorry," I mumbled. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"That's okay. I know how it is. When I first started, it took me a while to get over the pain, too. I can help you."

"How?"

She opened her purse and pulled out a small flask. "Go on, have a swig."

"Will you share some with me?" I asked and I saw her smile.

"Sure." She brought the flask to her lips and took a deep drink. She passed it to me and I did the same. It was vodka and it burned all the way down. I coughed and she patted me on the back until I could breathe again.

"Since you're new to this stuff, take small sips at first. Vodka is like swallowing a man's come: don't think of how bad it tastes, just swallow. I brought you something else." She handed me a small bottle of pills. "These will help you get through a lot. If I didn't have these, I never would've made it as long as I have."

"What are they?" I asked.

"Painkillers. But if you take enough of them, they make you feel good. Take some with the booze and you'll see what I mean."

Sable was my friend and I knew she'd never hurt me on purpose. I took two pills in my hand and washed it down with the vodka.

"It takes a while to work. Until it does, we can chat," Sable said, getting herself more comfortable on my bed. I enjoyed having someone other than a customer to talk to. And in my line of work, guys didn't do all that much talking.

"How long have you been here?" I asked, taking another drink.

"Four years. Momma says I only have a couple months to go before my contract is paid off. The second she tells me I'm free to go, I'll be out the door and gone."

My mouth hung open. _Four _years? I'd have to do this for four more years? I had no idea it would take so long.

"What will you do afterwards? Once you're outta here, I mean?"

She shrugged. "I don't know and I don't care. Don't tell her this, but I've been skimming for a while now and I have enough to live on my own for a few months."

"I'm glad." I was lying through my teeth--I _wasn't_ glad. I was as far from being glad as I could possibly be. My only friend was leaving me. I felt betrayed but at the same time, I was ashamed—she was free. How could I resent that? If the situation was reversed and I was the one leaving, I wouldn't look back for a second.

An odd feeling came upon me gradually. I had never felt this way before. I felt like my body wasn't a part of myself. It was as if my head were floating.

"It's kicking in, isn't it?" Sable asked. "How do you feel?"

"I don't know. It's hard to explain," I said.

"Feels good, doesn't it? See? I told you. If you think a guy going to be rough or even if fucking is the last thing you want to do, take some of those beforehand and you won't mind as much. If you can, take them with alcohol—they work faster and better if you do that."

My head was spinning but I liked it. I liked it _a lot_. "Thanks. I could definitely get used to this. Does Momma know that you have these?"

Sable laughed. "Who do you think gave them to me? I'm giving you my supply because I don't need them anymore. Once you run out, you'll have to see her about getting some more. They're not free. I'm surprised she hasn't told you about them yet. Are you nervous about your date with Big Ben tomorrow night?"

I confessed that I was. "I'm afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing and Ben won't want to see me any more. What should I do?"

"Before he comes to pick you up, take a drink. Or better yet, take two. See how it goes. If you're still feeling jittery, take a couple of the pills. I guarantee that they will do the trick and you can enjoy yourself. It's late and we should get some sleep. 'Night," she said, getting up from the bed and she left my room. I was left alone to think about tomorrow.

lll

As the time grew nearer for Ben to show up, the more nervous I became. I gave a lot of thought to what I should wear. I finally settled on a tight turquoise sweater and black khaki pants. I swept my hair up and put on some makeup—not a lot, but just enough to show Ben that I was not a child. I decided to take Sable's advice and have a drink. It helped a lot and I felt myself relaxing. Maybe I _can_ do this, I thought.

"You look nice," he said when I met him at the reception room door. I couldn't help but blush. I felt pretty but it was always nice to hear that from a man. I noticed that he had dressed up too: he was wearing a nicely tailored charcoal jacket and slacks with a navy blue silk shirt. It had to be custom made for I doubted any retail store would carry his size in anything.

Once we got outside, he opened the car door for me and I got in. He went to the driver's side and started the car.

"So, Sherry, tell me about yourself," Ben said as we drove along. He asked if it was okay if he smoked and I tried to suppress a smile at his considerate request. How many other johns would care if cigar smoke bothered the woman they had paid for?

"My stepfather, Tom, was a cop. He married my mom after my father was killed. She died of cancer when I was thirteen. Because she was dying, my stepfather couldn't sleep with her anymore and he started coming to my bed at night. He didn't want her to know, so he'd wait until she was out cold from her pain pills before coming to my room.

"If he drank, I would dread it when I heard his footsteps coming down the hall because I'd know he wanted me and he wasn't going to be gentle. The night I ran away from home was the worst—he'd started beating me if I said no. I had had enough and I knew if I didn't leave, he'd kill me sooner or later. I hit him over the head with a lamp and ran out of the house. When I got to Sin City, I ran into Rita. She took me to Momma's and I've been here ever since. That's my story."

"We're here," Ben announced and when I saw where we were, I laughed. We were outside the Basin City Gun Club. "Well, you did say you wanted to learn how to use a gun, didn't you?"

lll

We left the place two hours later, and I felt like I was walking on air. My arm and hand hurt from firing a weapon so many times—I never knew that handling a gun was so hard! The first couple of times, the kickback hurt and my shots weren't anywhere close to the target—but I think the drink and pills I took before the date had something to do with that. Ben laughed at my lousy aim and took the gun back. "Lemme show you how it's done," he said and started firing. There was such a concentration in his face as he squeezed off round after round, each one hitting the centre of the target every time. "Don't worry, kid, you'll be able to do that soon. C'mon, let's get out of here and grab a bite to eat."

We headed to a diner for burgers and a milkshake. Ben took off his jacket and placed it on the back of our booth. I could feel the other patrons staring at us but I didn't care. I thought they were staring because Ben was wearing a gun but I was wrong.

We'd browsed over our menus and the server came up to us. "What would you like, sir?"

"I'll have a double cheese burger and a beer, please."

"And for your daughter?"

I could see Ben's face turn red with anger and I placed my order before he could say anything. Once she left, I leaned over to him. I knew I had to say something, anything to take his mind away from what she said.

"How long do you think it will be before I do better at the firing range? I was pretty bad."

"No, you weren't." Ben knew what I was trying to do. "All it takes is practice and you'll get better."

"Better than you?" I teased.

He laughed, his good mood restored. "No way. You'll never be as good as me."

"Wanna bet?"

Our food came shortly after that and we busied ourselves in enjoying it. Both of us were hungry and it didn't take long for us to finish our meal. Ben threw money on the table and we left.

lll

We went to his apartment. It was a nice place and much neater than I expected. The furnishings were elegant and it was a pleasure to be there. Unlike the Senator's mansion, Ben's apartment was a home, not a museum filled with expensive things to show their visitors how rich the owners were. We sat together on the sofa and started to talk. First it was about simple, everyday things like the weather and stuff. I could tell something was upsetting him.

"Ben, don't worry about what that stupid waitress said, don't let it bother you."

"I know, Sherry. That's not what's been bothering me. I have to know something. After you came back from the Senator's, did Momma put you back to work? I mean, did you have to….sleep with other men?"

"Yes. They were really old but harmless. They wanted me to call them Daddy, can you believe that? All they wanted was a quick fuck. Most of them didn't last longer than a couple of minutes anyway. After I came home from the hospital, Momma made sure that the men I was with wouldn't hurt me."

Ben shuddered. I raised my hand and patted him on the shoulder. "It's okay, Ben. I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Ben said harshly. "Goddamn that woman. I never knew how greedy she was. Kid, let me tell you something. You weren't found by accident. Momma always has someone trolling the bus or train stations for girls who might be a good addition to her house. So does every Madame in Sin City. But Momma has an incentive: if she really likes who they find, they get a lot of money taken off their contract."

I felt like someone kicked me in the stomach. It wasn't luck that Rita found me—she was on the lookout for a new face and I matched the bill perfectly. I was a runaway and relatively pretty but most importantly, I was _young_. Young enough to satisfy the needs of men who wanted to fuck someone barely old enough to be their daughters. I felt Ben's arm go around my shoulder.

"There's more," Ben said. I wasn't sure I could take any more and told him so.

"It's something you have to hear: You didn't kill your stepfather. I made a couple of calls to some people and I've found out that he's alive and well. All you did was give him a bump on the head. That's all."

"The only reason I stayed is because she told me he might be dead and if I went back home, I'd be arrested! Oh God! How could I have been so stupid?"

"It's okay, kid, don't feel bad. Hey, think of it this way: if Rita hadn't brought you to Momma's, you never would have met me."

"If I hadn't gone to Momma's, I wouldn't have been beaten and raped by the Senator and his sons," I mumbled.

Ben couldn't think of anything to say. His arm was still around me and I leaned into him. I felt safe in his arms and wished I could stay there forever. For the first time I was glad that my mom was dead—she raised me to be a good girl. When she was healthy, we went to Sunday Mass every week. She'd be so ashamed that I was living in a whorehouse. I was stuck there until I paid my contract off. I hated the idea of selling myself to men but I had no choice now. If I didn't earn money, I'd never be free. The morning after I went to Momma's she gave me a choice: either work for her or I get sent back to my stepfather. I knew I couldn't go back to him so I chose what I thought was the lesser of two evils.

I wanted desperately to not have to be forced to endure a strange man's fumbling and groping in the dark; Of feeling him shove his hand down my panties; Of making me do the same to him; Feeling him grope my breasts and twisting my nipples as if he were twiddling with a knob on a radio; Listening as he fumbled with his clothes and waiting for his hands to yank my legs apart; Trying not to cry out when he shoved his cock inside me; Watching him leave after he was done and knowing I had his come inside of me.

Afterwards, I'd curl up on my bed with my knees under my chin and feel worthless. I'd clean myself up, putting on more makeup and going downstairs so another man could use me in the exact same way.

I looked at the clock. If Ben took me home now, Momma would decide that I could have time to do two more men before I could call it a night. I started to cry. I felt cheap and dirty. Disposable. That's what I was. To be used up and thrown aside like a used tissue.

But even I had to admit to myself it wasn't all bad. There were quite a few times that a man told me he loved me. Of course, he said it just as he was coming but I needed to hear the words. It made up for a lot of the pain I felt.

Ben kissed me before wrapping his arms around me. "Honey, please don't cry. I hate to see you this way."

I couldn't help it. Ben was showing me the first real human kindness I had known since I came to Sin City.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" I asked.

"About what happened to you in the hospital?"

I hesitated to tell him but I needed to tell someone and Ben was someone I could trust. I buried my face in his shirt and told him everything…

lll

_When I opened my eyes for the first time in the hospital, I saw Sable leaning over me. _

"_You're awake. Thank God," she said. She held my hand and I squeezed hers in return. Someone at least cared about me._

"_How are you doing, sweetie?" Momma asked, coming into my field of vision."_

"_It hurts," I said._

_Momma turned her attention to the doctor as he came to look at me. "Well? How is she?" _

"_She's not doing too well. It would be best if she stayed here for a while."_

"_How long?"_

_I could tell by Momma's tone of voice that she wasn't pleased._

"_At least a week."_

"_Christ! Can't she come home any sooner than that?" Momma's voice had risen._

"_Why are you so insistent that she leave so soon?" the doctor asked, and I could see his eyes narrow in dislike when he looked at Momma. "She can get better care here than she can at your whorehouse."_

_She straightened up to her full height. "Don't you look down your educated nose at me, Mister High and Mighty! You're a regular at my place and don't you forget it! You make a remark like that again and I'll make damn sure the whole city knows that you need to get spanked before you can get off!"_

"_Shut up!" he hissed. "The whole hospital doesn't need to know what I do when I'm off duty." The doctor glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone had heard. He glared back at Momma but said nothing. He was caught and he knew it. "Be that as it may," he continued, "Let me show you something," he said and pulled something shiny out of his pocket and gave it to her. "Do you know what this is?"_

"_It's a ring. So?" _

"_It's the cause of the bleeding. I found it when I examined her."_

_I saw distaste flicker over Momma's face. "You mean to tell me that was inside of her?"_

"_Yes." The doctor turned his attention back to me. I'd been following the conversation between the two of them. "Sherry, I have to tell you something. Something that you may not want to hear."_

"_What is it?" _

"_I did the best I could, but the internal damage was too great. Because of what was done to you, the likelihood of you ever having children is non-existent. I am very, very sorry." He meant every word—I could see it in his eyes._

"_Are you telling me that I won't be able to have kids? Ever?" I asked. I felt tears burn in my eyes when he shook his head._

"_Is that a certainty? I mean, are you 100 sure?" Momma interrupted. There was a calculating look on her face that I didn't like. If I didn't know better, she was happy that I had been hurt so badly. She caught me looking at her and she smiled at me. "This is a blessing in disguise, Cherry. We have a lot of clients who would pay extra not to have to wear a rubber when they have sex. Now that we don't have to worry about you getting pregnant, you can pay off your contract that much sooner. Isn't that great?"_

_I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I had just heard the worst news imaginable and all she could think about was how to turn it into a business opportunity._

"_What about the Roarkes? What's going to happen to them? Aren't they going to go to jail?"_

"_Of course not! Where would you get such a stupid idea? You haven't lived here long enough but that family own the police in this state. However, because you'll be out of commission for a while, I can get the Senator to fork out some serious cash to compensate for my trouble and your lost wages. If he doesn't agree, I'll wave his son's ring under his nose. It's a Harvard ring, Cherry, and I know for a fact that he paid a lot of money to have his son educated there. He won't pass up the chance of getting it back again, you'll see."_

_I turned my head so she couldn't see how much I hated her at that moment. She wasn't my friend—she was a cold, calculating bitch and like it or not, I was stuck under her thumb until my contract was paid off. I was trapped…._

I told Ben everything, holding nothing back. It felt good to talk to someone; someone who would actually listen to me. But most of all, Ben was someone who cared about me.

"When was the last time you had a good night's sleep?" Ben asked, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. I shook my head—I couldn't remember.

"How about this: you go into the bathroom and splash some cold water on your face and we'll talk about it when you get out. On second thought, take a nice hot bath. Take as long as you want. I got a phone call to make."

lll

I don't know how long I sat in the tub but I enjoyed every minute of it. At Momma's, there were a lot of bathrooms but it was almost impossible to get one to yourself. Here, there was no one banging on the door, demanding to know how long I'd be. The hot water eased the tension away and I felt happy.

I could hear Ben's voice raise in anger and wondered who he was talking to. As quietly as I could, I went to the bathroom door and listened to his end of the conversation.

"Goddamn it, Momma, how many times do I have to tell you--Sherry's spending the night with me and that's final! Oh yes she is! I don't care how many guys want her right now, she's not going anywhere. Don't you dare tell me what I can or can't do! Was that a threat? 'Cause I'd like to see how you will do it, I really would. Don't worry. I'll pay for every hour that she's with me. You'll get your goddamn money--you know I'm good for it. Yes, even if you want double her rate. Bye."

Ben slammed the phone down so hard that I flinched. I thought about what I had just heard. Momma was really pissed that I was staying here for the night. From what I heard, she already had had several requests for me and if I hadn't been out with Ben this evening, I would've had to suffer being fucked by who knows how many men.

I shuddered; suddenly feeling like my body was frozen down to my very bones. To calm my nerves, I reached into my purse and took a few of the pills that Sable had given me. I put my clothes back on, towelled my hair dry and went into the living room. Ben was holding a shirt of his out to me and he had a smile on his face.

"I called and told Momma that you're staying with me tonight. Don't worry—she doesn't have a problem with it. You can sleep in my bed and I'll take the sofa."

"Ben, I…" I didn't know what to say. His consideration for my comfort touched me to the soul but he lied to me. From what I'd heard, Momma was pissed that I wouldn't be home tonight. And knowing her as I did, I knew that she'd get me back for this somehow. For this one night I could rest and sleep soundly. When I went back to the house, however, I'd have to fuck more than my share of men to make up for it. I ran into his arms and he hugged me tightly but kept my thoughts to myself. "You don't have to sleep on the sofa, we can share the bed," I said and looked into his eyes.

He understood my meaning. I could tell he was tempted—when he hugged me, I felt his cock twitch against my thigh. He _wanted_ to sleep with me but for his own reasons, he wouldn't. He took my face between his hands and looked at me. I mean, he _really _looked at me. A small sad smile softened his face. For some reason, I felt sorry for him but I couldn't explain why.

"I know you want me, Ben. You don't have to sleep alone."

He sighed. "I know, Sherry. It's just that…I can't right now, that's all."

It hurt me to say the next words, but I had to know. "Do you have a girlfriend? Is that why you don't want to be with me?"

He shook his head and looked a bit sad. "I haven't had a girlfriend in a long time. But I think that's going to change. Never mind that. Take my shirt and get changed. We'll watch some TV or something. I'll make the popcorn."

"I'd like that," I said, grinning from ear to ear. It was such a relief to be doing normal stuff like any other teenager—for this one night, I wouldn't have to worry about Momma bringing some strange man to my room so he could fuck me. Tonight, I could watch TV, stuff my face with popcorn and curl up next to the one man I felt completely safe with without worrying about where his hands were.

I laughed myself sore during _The Honeymooners._ Both Ben and I tried to guess the answers during _The $64,000 Question_ but neither of us was good at it. I can't remember what else we watched but it didn't matter. It was ten o'clock and I was getting tired. I got up from the sofa and Ben followed me to his bedroom to get pillows and blankets for himself.

When I was settled in bed, he leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. Quick as a wink, I moved so that I was kissing him. I thought he would pull away but he didn't. I put my arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. He pulled my body tight against his and I savoured feeling his strong arms around me as if he would never let me go. I felt my nipples harden and Ben must've been aware of that because he lowered his hands and caressed my breasts. Excitement on a level that I had never felt before raced over my entire body and I could feel my pussy getting wet. My breasts, nipples and clit were tingling, threatening to drive me insane with desire.

"Oh God," I moaned. "_Please_ don't stop!" I was reminded how strong he was when my eyes lingered on his wide shoulders. "Just go slow, okay?"

"I would never hurt you, Sherry, I hope you know that. I know you've been hurt by many men. I won't be one of them. All you've known is pain, suffering and abuse. Not one man in your life has ever given you pleasure. I feel proud that I'll be the first."

I bent my head so Ben wouldn't see my face. How could I tell him the truth? That my stepfather was the first man to give me an orgasm? Not once but twice. If I didn't tell him now, I never would be able to. I opened my mouth to tell him but the words wouldn't come.

"This is for you. Enjoy yourself." He unbuttoned my shirt slowly and removed it. When it was off, I saw the desire in his face as he looked at my naked body.

He took off his jacket and shirt but left his pants and white undershirt on. I couldn't take my eyes off of his body—it was gorgeous. I moved to one side as he got in bed with me.

"Now lie back and let me do everything." He positioned himself between my legs and put my feet on his shoulders.

I wasn't sure what he was going to do but a long-forgotten memory popped into my head: when I was very young, I'd gone into my parents' bedroom without knocking and saw my father with his head buried between my mother's legs. She was moaning and had her hands buried in his hair but I didn't understand what they were doing. It seemed that Ben was going to do the same to me and remembering how my mother seemed to love it, I couldn't help but shiver with anticipation.

"Go easy on me. It's my first time," I whispered and I giggled when Ben laughed. I gasped when I felt Ben's finger slide gently up and down my slit. Almost immediately, I felt myself getting wet. Touching myself had never felt like this!

He moved his face closer to me and I felt his hot breath against my pussy. He parted my lips with his tongue and I shrieked when he latched onto my clit. He flicked his tongue back and forth over it and I thought I'd go insane from how good it felt. I was embarrassed at how wet I was but Ben happily slurped up all my juices.

Time and place had no meaning for me anymore. Nothing but Ben tongue mattered. I could feel the pressure of an orgasm begin to build. I moaned and writhed, desperate to come but on the other hand, I wanted it to last forever. My feet tingled and I knew I was there. When it hit me, my orgasm was so intense; I saw bright flashes of light behind my eyelids. Every nerve of my body fused with every other nerve and I screamed when I came. Waves of almost unbearable pleasure flooded over my body. I could feel Ben's lips still suckling my clit and my whole body shuddered.

When I finally came back to earth and could think clearly again, I realized that I was lying in Ben's arms. Ben leaned over and kissed me and I could taste myself. I licked his face clean. "Thank you," I whispered.

"My pleasure."

"Where did you learn how to do that?"

Ben chuckled. "After the war, I accompanied the Senator on a trip to Paris. That night, we made the rounds of some whorehouses on the Left Bank and in one of them, a prost—woman showed me how."

"You learned very well," I said. My orgasm had been so intense; I was still out of breath. And my throat was a little hoarse from screaming. I snuggled closer to him. Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep.

lll

The next thing I remember was hearing strange sounds but I couldn't tell where they were coming from. Since I knew that Ben was in the living room, I got out of bed to have a look. As quietly as I could, I tiptoed out of the bedroom, towards the sounds.

I poked my head around the corner and froze, startled at what I was seeing. Ben was lying on the sofa and his pants and shorts were around his ankles. His fist was around his huge, meaty cock and he was masturbating. His head was resting against the armrest and his eyes were closed. I could tell he was going to come soon—his moans were getting louder and his hand was pumping his dick faster and faster. His face was shiny with sweat and his lips were drawn back over his teeth.

I felt ashamed of my selfishness. Ben patiently listened as I unburdened myself; he held me and comforted me when I needed a shoulder to cry on and he went to great lengths to pleasure me while I, on the other hand, had given no thought to Ben's needs and he had been forced to satisfy his lust by himself.

As I watched him, I was torn. Part of me wanted to go back to my room while another part wanted to run over and put my lips on him, and feel his rock-hard flesh quiver as he surged in my mouth. He was so close now—I could hear his breathing become hurried gasps for air.

My mind was made up. I dashed from my hiding place and over to the sofa. Ben was so distracted because of his approaching orgasm, he didn't hear my approach. I knelt beside him and took his hand away. He opened his eyes but didn't make any move to stop me.

"This is for you," I said and without another word, I took him in my mouth, sliding him down my throat as far as I could. Ben had a thick cock and it took some manoeuvring on my part before I could deep-throat him. To enhance his pleasure, I caressed his balls. I could feel them tighten and knew he was going to come at any second. Ben murmured my name between groans of pleasure and if my mouth hadn't been occupied at the time, I would have smiled. Ben gasped, his entire body shaking. I felt his penis shudder and pulsate as it shot gobs of hot cum into my mouth. Like someone who hadn't had a drink in a week, I eagerly milked his cock of every drop.

"OH GOD!" Ben screamed, burying his hands in my hair. I'm sure he didn't do it on purpose, but just as he was cumming, Ben shoved my head down so that I took all of him inside my mouth at once and it caused me to gag but I bore it as best I could. He had had such a hard grip on my hair; I thought he was going to pull it out by the roots. Eventually, his orgasm ended and he let go of me.

"Come up here and lie against me; I need to feel your body next to mine," he said hoarsely. He kissed me deeply and I snuggled in his arms, laying my cheek on his chest. I could hear his heart beating against my ear and as I felt him drift into sleep, I wished I could spend the rest of my life in his arms.


	4. Confrontation

Confrontation

Disclaimer: This plotline of this story has nothing to do with the "Sin City" series of graphic novels. It's just my interpretation of the life of Marv's mom before she gave birth to him.

A/N: This chapter contains strong M/F, Oral, Language and substance warnings.

llll

As I suspected, Momma made me pay for spending the night at Ben's. I was given to the men that no other girl wanted. Mostly smarmy salesmen from who were in town for a convention. When they called for a girl, I was sent and usually got fucked by two or three guys. The ones I really hated had cold hands and wanted me to say things like: "Fuck me harder, Daddy!" They'd want me to put my hair up in pigtails, wear knee-high socks and a plaid skirt.

What was it about men who subconsciously wanted to fuck their daughters?

Slowly but surely I built up a steady reputation and to my relief, the class of men I serviced were of better quality. It was hard keeping a straight face when men who owned the biggest corporations in the city wanted me to spank them with their own belts! Not only that, they called me "Mistress" and wanted me to tell them they deserved to be punished for being naughty!

As time went on, I discovered that not every man who paid for my company was sadistic or mean. There was many a time the man would only want to talk. Those dates usually followed a pattern: we'd go out, have a nice dinner somewhere and go to his hotel room, drink and talk until dawn.

These men were much, much older than I was. Most were at least fifty but I didn't mind. They were doctors, lawyers or bankers. They had everything—money, success, power--but their wives were too busy with their charity events or whatever to pay any attention to their husbands. Their children had grown up and moved away and were concentrating on raising their own families. They came to me because they were still in the prime of their life but they still needed female companionship. They yearned for someone to listen to them.

When they wanted sex, I obliged them gladly. At their age, they were tender and considerate, since they couldn't smack a woman around, especially a hellcat like me. Ever since my brutal rape at the Roarke estate, I vowed never to let a man hurt me again. If the guy I was with starting hitting me, I gave as good as I got.

Because they were considerate with me, my body responded with pleasure when we got together. It was never Wham Bam Thank you Ma'am with them. Most people think that older men can't perform in bed. For the most part that was true, but I discovered that some of them could give younger men half their age a real run for their money. Because of their age, they had learned over the years how to _really_ please a woman. Sure, younger men could fuck me twice in a night but these older guys gave quality not quantity.

I didn't hear from Ben after I spent the night at his place. He never called or came over to Momma's anymore. From the grapevine that ran rampant through Old Town, I found out that Ben had been seeing another girl at a different brothel. It was obvious that he had forgotten me but I never told anyone about how hurt I felt, not even Sable.

I started drinking and taking pills every day to ease my pain. The booze and pills were a godsend and for several hours at a time, I could almost forget about Ben and what we shared. I had to face facts: Ben had abandoned me for the charms of another woman and he didn't care about me anymore.

Nearly a month after Ben's desertion, I discovered how wrong I was.

One night I was staying at a hotel with Richard. He was a lawyer in his late fifties and made his millions defending members of the Mob. He was filthy rich and lived in that part of town where all the other people with power lived—Sacred Oaks. He had two bodyguards with him at all times but he still carried a gun, just in case.

He never spoke of his cases and I knew better than to ask. The less I knew, the safer I was. Even so, I learned more about organized crime than I ever wanted to. When he got really drunk, his tongue was a bit loose and told me things a woman wasn't supposed to know. And sometimes at night, he talked in his sleep.

I liked Richard a lot, both as a person and as a man. Usually I looked forward to being with him again but ever since I got the call that he wanted me, I dreaded it. All I wanted to do that night was stay in my room and drink. However, Richard was a big tipper and I couldn't afford not to see him.

Once we went into the room and his guards took their usual stations on either side of the door, he reached for me. I felt myself cringe when I felt Richard's hands on my flesh.

Why was I feeling this way? What was wrong with me? I tried to answer both questions in my head as my clothes were removed. The only conclusion I could come up with I was still hurt from Ben's desertion. The last thing I wanted was to be here but Richard paid for me and it was my duty to make sure that he got his money's worth.

I knew better than anyone what made him hard and I went to work. My mind was a million miles away but my hands and body acted for me. I unbuttoned his jacket and slid it from his body, taking care to fold it neatly and put it out of the way. Richard only wore custom-made clothes and he wouldn't be too pleased if I tore any of his garments.

As I kissed him, I felt his groin tighten. I slid my hand downward and stroked him through his trousers. He pushed his hips against my hand. I unzipped him and slid my hand inside his fly so I could touch him. He was completely hard now and his moaned as I caressed his balls.

I went to my knees and took him in my mouth, knowing that it drove him insane with lust. He buried his hands in my hair and I took as much of him into my mouth as I could.

"Oh God, Sherry. If you keep this up, I'm going to come," he whispered but I didn't care. The sooner he came, the sooner I could go home and drown my grief with drugs. I doubled my efforts but was disappointed when Richard pulled me to my feet. He kissed me, his lips hard and unyielding against mine. He was an expert kisser and normally, kissing Richard was a huge turn-on for me but not tonight.

When he had had his fill of my mouth, he dipped his head and I felt his hot breath against my skin as he whispered endearments into my ear. I didn't respond when his teeth nipped at the sensitive area between my neck and shoulder. I felt nothing. My body felt encased in ice. The only thing I felt was my hot tears as they trickled from my eyes and down my temples. As if in a dream, I dimly heard him remove the rest of his clothes. I lay back on the bed and spread my legs and waited for it to be over.

Richard positioned himself over me. Proceeding as gently and slowly as always, he entered me but I still felt nothing. I experienced no joy and no pleasure in being with Richard. Automatically I moved my hips so that they counter thrust against him until he was buried to the hilt inside of me. Because of the blowjob I gave him, he was already close to his having his orgasm.

As Richard began to moved faster inside of me, I stared at the ceiling and counted each thrust. It would be over soon and I could go back to my room, take some pills and wait for the pain to fade into forgetfulness. In the throes of his climax, he groaned and I felt his penis shudder inside of me. When his breathing returned to normal, he slid off my body and lay beside me. He was the kind of man who wanted to cuddle in the afterglow. I lay stiffly in his arms afterward, wondering how soon it would be before I could leave.

"You usually enjoy our lovemaking, Sherry. What's wrong? Your body is here, but your mind is a million miles away."

All the pain I had felt during the last month hit me like a gigantic tidal wave and it was too much. I curled into a ball on the bed and started crying. Once the floodgates were opened, there was no turning back and no way to stop it.

"Easy, easy," he said softly, and he took me in his arms. "Let's see if we can't figure this out. What's on your mind?"

"Nothing."

Richard chuckled. "Sherry, I am a lawyer. And a damn good one too. I've questioned enough people on the stand to know when someone isn't telling me the truth. No matter what it is, please tell me what's bothering you. Maybe I can help."

I shook my head and didn't answer. No one could help me.

"It's not me you wish was in bed with you now, is it?" Richard asked. "Listen, I've been with enough women in my time to know that you were not enjoying what I was doing to you. You usually are very wet when we make love but tonight, you weren't. I probably injured you and for that I am very sorry. You are the last person in the world I'd ever want to hurt."

He was right. My pussy had been dry and he did hurt me but it wasn't intentional. In my line of work, getting fucked when you weren't ready was an occupational hazard. I'd suffered much worse pain than that.

A lifetime ago, Ben had said something about never wanting to hurt me. But he did and my heart was broken because of it.

"If I had to guess, I'd say you've got something—or should I say some_one_—on your mind."

"I'm sorry, I—" I stared at him in surprise at his astuteness. That was the problem about being with a lawyer—they were trained to figure out the truth without you having to say a word.

"That's okay. I understand. So, what is he like, this young man of yours?"

"He's not that young. He's much older than me but….how I feel about him doesn't matter. He doesn't feel the same about me."

"But you want him."

"I love him and I thought he felt the same. I was wrong."

"What happened? Talking about bad things in one's life to someone else helps, believe me. I can't tell you how many times I've felt better after unburdening myself to you."

I told him everything. My stepfather's nightly rapes. My running away to Sin City, meeting Momma and signing away the best years of my life in return for her "protection." The gang-bang at the Roarke estate. Ben's tending to me after it was over. My recuperation at the hospital and the awful news that I could never bear a child. Ben's coming to Momma's to see how I was. Our two dates and how I haven't heard a word from him since.

Richard took my hands in his. "He's a fool for letting you go. If it were me—well, that's neither here nor there. But that doesn't help your pain, does it? Now tell me about this agreement you have with Momma."

He asked me all kinds of legal questions and even put them in layman's terms so I could understand what he meant.

"Let me see what I can do about nullifying that so-called contract of yours," Richard said, wrapping his arms around me and holding me for a long time. "If there is a loophole, I will find it and use it to set you free. There. You can't doubt me now when I tell you I love you, can you?"

"I love you too," I said. I knew that for his own reasons, he needed to hear the words spoken by a woman he cared about. For all intents and purposes, that woman was me. For everything he had given me, it wouldn't hurt if I said a few words to appease him when he wanted it.

"I've got something that should help you feel better," Richard said. He got out of bed and picked up his jacket, rummaging around in the pockets before he found what he was looking for. He held a vial of white powder in his hand.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Cocaine. I take it when I need to feel better and forget about the outside world sometimes. Right now I think you need it more than I do. Let me show you." He poured a small amount of the powder on the nightstand and carefully arranged it into two thin lines. He took a one hundred dollar bill and rolled it up into a thin tube. He put one end in his nose and the other on the line he'd made before taking a deep breath and inhaling all of the drug. "One hit of this and I guarantee you will forget all of your problems. It's perfectly safe. Go on. Try it."

I did as he showed me and was rewarded with a rush as the drug started to work. My pills never made me feel like this! It was wonderful! He was right—it did make me feel better!

We had some more to drink before making love again. The cocaine heightened my senses. The pleasure I felt from everything he did to me rose exponentially because of the wonderful drug that was flowing through my veins. Every inch of my body felt it was on fire—my nipples, clit and lips needed to feel my companion's touch and Richard did not disappoint.

This time, his lips on my neck drove me nearly insane and I heard him chuckle deep in his throat when his fingertips found my aching, rock-hard nipples, silently begging to be suckled. When his mouth closed around them, I gave out a long and loud moan, threading my fingers through his hair. He tormented me to the brink of insanity as he teased first one nipple then the other. I loved what he was doing to me and in a breathless whisper, I told him where else on my body I wanted to feel his mouth.

As he nipped and sucked my clitoris, I grabbed him by the ears and shoved his face against my pussy, trying to get as much of his flesh against mine as possible. When I came, I screamed so loud I was sure the cops would be pounding on the door at any minute, investigating why I was making noises like someone was killing me. When he came up for air, I devoured his face, nearly biting his lips off. Richard retaliated by shoving his penis inside of me hard and fast but that was exactly how I wanted him. I wrapped my legs around his waist and we rode out our orgasms together.

It took a while before my body would stop shaking from the indescribable bliss I'd just experienced but eventually I got the strength to stand and walk; but even so, my knees were wobbly.

As soon as we left the hotel room, we were immediately flanked by his two massive bodyguards, Brown and Jones. It didn't bother me that they'd heard everything that went on between Richard and me. Their discretion was part of the job requirement and they were compensated well for ensuring Richard's safety and keeping his extra-marital affairs secret. They had been standing patiently on either side of the door until we came out. Jones was the bigger of the two men and I gave him a leer and a wink. I couldn't see his eyes behind his dark sunglasses but his mouth twitched in response before his face resumed its usual stern expression.

A few years ago, Richard's car broke down late one night on the wrong side of town. A part of town that made Old Town look like a retirement community. He went into a run-down titty bar where Jones was a bouncer and asked to use the phone and call Triple A for a tow truck. The local tough guys saw Richard in his expensive clothes and decided to roll him for his wallet. Richard refused and he would have been knifed if Jones hadn't stepped in and saved his life. Richard hired him on the spot and now Jones was Richard's most loyal employee and his right-hand man. Jones, like Ben, was intimidating both in size and demeanour and it would be a stupid man who got in the way of his formidable fists when he was pissed off.

It was thanks to Jones that I even met Richard in the first place. Jones was attending an all-night poker game and he lost a lot of money. Six thousand dollars, as a matter of fact. As compensation, his fellow players chipped in and hired me to give him some comfort. I felt sorry for the big lug; I've known men who got mean when they lost big like that but Jones wasn't one of them. He was disappointed and angry at himself but he didn't take it out on me. I went out of my way to give him the best fuck and blowjob of his life that night. We'd seen each other a few times since then.

One night when his wife was out of town, Richard was horny as hell and asked Jones if he knew of a girl who was a good fuck and could keep her mouth shut about her customers. I fit the bill on both counts and that's how our relationship began.

Richard dismissed Jones and Brown. "Sherry and I will wait for the elevator. You two go ahead and we'll join you by the car."

Both men nodded and took the stairs, leaving us alone in the hallway.

"How is your divorce coming along?" I asked with a smile. We were standing outside the elevator, waiting for the car to come to our floor.

"She's being a real bitch about it. She's going to take me to the cleaners, I'm afraid. Will you still love me when I'm poor?"

"Even if she takes every cent, I'll always love you." I knew damn well he had no intention of ever divorcing his wife—he loved her too much but still, it was fun to dream of what might have been. If I had been ten years older and he had been thirty years younger, who knows what might have happened?

"And you'd still want to be married to me?"

"Definitely," I murmured.

"Well, we'll do that once you get old enough. Can you wait until then?"

We were both high from the drugs we'd taken earlier in the evening. I giggled and nodded my head, saying the words he was waiting for. "I'll wait for you forever." Our banter was harmless but to anyone who wasn't in on our joke, they'd completely misunderstand what was going on. I ran my fingers through his salt-and-pepper coloured hair and I knew by the look in his eyes that he wanted me again. But the sun was coming up and he had to be in court at nine a.m. Still, one last kiss wouldn't hurt….And I did owe him—both for listening and for giving me the drug.

Our lips had just met when suddenly Richard and I were wrenched apart. Through a dim, drug-induced haze, I saw him stagger back from the force of a powerful punch. He fell to his knees. I looked up at the man who done the unthinkable: stupidly assaulting the number one lawyer for the Mob. I couldn't believe my eyes. It was Ben!

"Get your damn hands off her!" he snarled. Ben appeared out of nowhere; but then again, Richard and I had been too occupied with each other to pay attention to anything around us and we hadn't heard him.

"Get out of here, Sherry. I'll take care of this guy!" Richard quickly got to his feet and pushed me out of harm's way.

Ben stood in front of Richard and it was terrifying to see the anger emanating from him. "You goddamn ambulance-chasing shyster! If I ever catch you near her again, I'll kill you!" Ben reached inside his jacket and pulled out his gun.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Richard yelled back. Even though Ben towered over him by a head, Richard stood his ground. "Do you know who I am? Do you know who I work for?" He scoffed when he saw Ben's gun aimed at his heart. "Do you think you're the only one who carries a firearm?" Before I could even blink, his gun was out as well.

I knew that if I just stood and watched, one of them would end up dead and I wished harm to neither. "NO!" I yelled. As fast I as could, I put myself between them.

"I know who pays you and I don't care," Ben snarled. "I'm not afraid of him. I've got connections too."

Ben peered speculatively at Ben. "I knew I've seen you somewhere before. You're one of the Senator's _goombahs_, aren't you? Well, I've got news for you, pal, _my_ boss is the one who got _your_ boss elected. And he can get Roarke thrown out of office just as easily."

"What did you just fucking call me? Huh? You think that because you got an expensive education from some Ivy League law school and you wear fancy suits that you're better than me? I'm not afraid of you _or_ your boss—that fat, wine-guzzling Wop! Goddamn it, Sherry, move aside so I can shoot this bastard."

"I'm not moving until you put your guns away. _Both_ of you," I ordered as bravely as I could. To be honest, I was scared shitless—I was between two very angry, very powerful men who were both armed. I could feel Richard's gun poking me in the back and the cold barrel of Ben's was resting between my breasts.

Both were powerful in their own way: Ben could easily pound a man until he was a bloody smudge on the pavement while Richard had connections that could make someone disappear from the face of the earth without a trace. If the tittle-tattle I heard was correct, the tar pits were full of bodies. Full of people who had had the misfortune of pissing Don Battaglio off once too often were taken there for a drive and never heard from again.

I was secretly thrilled that these two men were fighting over me but I wanted no blood shed between them especially on my account. I breathed easier when the moment passed and they holstered their weapons.

"If you think I'm going to leave her alone with you, you've got another thing coming!" Richard fumed.

I turned around and faced him. "Ben's not going to hurt me. He's a friend. I'll be fine. Same time next week?"

"Yeah, sure. Listen, Sherry, if he gives you any trouble, you call me, OK? This is for you," Richard murmured as he bent down and kissed me on the lips before slipping the vial into my hand. "You and I," he said, staring at Ben over my head, "are going to have a little talk. Count on hearing from me soon."

"I'll meet you anytime, anywhere," Ben replied. "Why're you staring at me like that?"

"I'm memorizing your face so that I'll know I've got the right man in my sights before I pull the trigger," Richard said. He smiled and nodded at me before turning and walking to the waiting elevator.

Ben waited until the car was on its way down before turning on me. "Who the hell does that guy think he is, talking to me like that? Why were you with him in the first place? Don't you know how dangerous he is?"

I was about to make a joke but the look on his face stopped me. Saying that he looked pissed was an understatement.

"What was he talking about? I heard the two of you. Are you and him getting married or something?"

I couldn't believe it. Ben had been eavesdropping! Now I was the one who was mad. "You're a fine one to stand here and demand answers from me! Are you following me around?"

"Yeah. So what?"

I couldn't say a word as I was too furious. Who did he think he was anyway—ignoring me for months and just when I'd started getting over him, he was trying to meddle in my life?

"Answer my goddamn question! Are you getting married?"

"So what if I was? What's it to you?" I demanded, my hands on my hips.

"Sherry, I won't let you get hurt by that guy. I demand that you stop seeing him!"

"And who are you to give me orders? You find someone else to fuck but I'm not allowed to do the same thing? Did you expect me to sit by the phone and wait for you to come back? No! I'm getting on with my life and I suggest you do the same!"

"You can't marry him! He's old enough to be your father!"

"So are you!" I shouted. As soon as the words left my mouth, I wished I hadn't said them but it was too late. I saw the hurt look that flashed over Ben's face. The damage had been done. I saw Ben's lips tighten and he raised his hand. I flinched in a reflex action—all those times my stepfather had hit me made the reaction a perfectly natural one. "No, Ben, don't hit me! I'm sorry!" I shrieked.

"Aw honey, I wasn't gonna…"

"No! Leave me alone!" I was about to cry for help when Ben clamped his hand over my mouth. I tried to break his grip, but he was too strong and he wasn't going to let me go. He pulled me toward him and before I knew what was happening, Ben's lips were on mine and my arms were around his neck.

"This is killing me, Sherry! Watching you go out, knowing men like him are kissing you, touching you, fucking you….I can't take it anymore. I can't get you out of my head. I think about you all the time."

"I think about you too, Ben," I said. "When I'm with them, I see your face, not theirs." Now that all the excitement was over and I didn't have to think too hard, I could feel the effects of the booze and pills. It took a lot of effort not to slur my words and my head wouldn't stop spinning.

"You do?"

"Yes. I wish to God I didn't have to..." My throat closed and I started to cry. It wouldn't solve my problems but it helped to get it out. "I hadn't seen you in a while. I thought you forgot about me."

"You thought I'd forgotten about you? There's no way in hell I'd ever be able to do that! Never!" Ben said forcefully.

"But why did you stay away? I thought you didn't care anymore."

"No matter what I did, I couldn't get you out of my head. I'm not proud to admit this, but I've been with other women but it didn't do any good." Ben leaned closer for a moment then looked at me. "You've been drinking, haven't you?"

"Yeah."

"How much?"

"We had a few glasses of wine with dinner."

"Let me look at you." He tipped my head back and looked into my eyes. "You're on something. Your pupils are so small I can hardly see them."

"Are you an eye doctor now?" I said with a laugh, trying to lighten the situation but Ben didn't smile back.

"Tell me the truth: are you high?"

"Yeah," I mumbled. My mind was fuzzy and the only thing I wanted to do was go home.

"When did you start taking drugs? Tell me!" Ben shook me and I snapped back to wakefulness.

"I thought you didn't want me any more. I took them to make me feel better."

"Take it from me--pills and booze aren't the solution to anything. They cause more problems than they solve. Did that guy get you started on that junk?"

"No. I was already taking them when we met. What's the big deal, anyway? Everybody does it."

"I don't care about everybody else, I care about you! Don't you realize what could happen to you? You could die!"

"I'm not gonna die, Ben. Don't worry, I'm careful. I only take a few at a time."

"And I bet you can't wait to go home right now so you can take some more pills, right? Be honest."

"Yeah."

"Kid, I'm gonna do something that you're gonna hate me for but I have no choice. You're coming to my place for a few days and I'm not taking no for an answer. No matter how long it takes, I'm gonna get you off of that stuff." Ben hoisted me over his shoulder in a fireman's carry and walked down eight flights of steps until we got to the garage where Ben's car was.

Some movement in the distance caught my attention. It was Richard. He was standing by his limousine and talking with his bodyguards and driver. They all turned to look at us and they paid particular attention to Ben; it was as if they were memorizing what he looked like for future reference.

I smiled to myself when I realized that Richard did not leave until he was sure I was all right. I waved at him and made an '_I'm OK_' sign with my index finger and thumb. He nodded and got into his car.

llll

"How did you find me?"

Ben shrugged and turned his attention to the road. "Remember the night I came over and you saw me talking to Sable? Well, I asked her to keep tabs on you for me. She's told me about every guy you've had a date with and where you go. But when she told me you started seeing that lawyer, I knew I had to do something."

"So you've followed me around all this time? I never saw you."

"If I don't want to be seen, no one will see me."

"But what about tonight?"

"Tonight was different. I guess I went a little nuts."

"A _little_ nuts?"

"OK, OK. I went completely ballistic but can you blame me? I mean, you're smooching that sleazy money-grubbing lawyer and talking about marriage…."

"What about your girlfriend?" I said sharply. "What's her name?"

"Girlfriend? What are you talking about?"

"I heard you were seeing someone else!"

"It wasn't true. Not a word of it. The only girl for me is the one who is sitting next to me right now." He took my hand and brought it to his lips.

Me! He meant me! He hadn't forgotten me after all! After so many long lonely weeks, my heart was whole again.


	5. Who the Hell are you to judge?

Who the hell are you to judge?

Disclaimer: I don't own any rights to the movie or the graphic novels and this story has nothing to do with the plotlines of either. It's just how I imagine Marv's parents' history would have happened.

lll

As soon as Ben and I walked into his place, he took my purse and began rummaging through it. He'd told me that he was going to take my drugs away and he meant it.

"All this crap, all this junk that you're on is going right down the toilet," Ben said as he scooped up all of the orange pill bottles.

I protested when I saw him heading to the bathroom. "Hey! Where are you going with those? They're mine!"

I realized that anger would not get me anywhere so I tried another tactic—turning him on. I learned how to make a man think with his dick rather than his brain. It was almost too easy but as every woman knows, men do most of their thinking with their dicks anyway.

I slid my hands around his waist. I felt him stiffen under my touch. My fingers touched his belt until I had reached the buckle. As I moved my hands lower, his body twitched.

"Sherry, what are you doing?" Ben asked, his voice low and hoarse. Instead of replying, I put the toilet lid down and told him to sit on it. He obeyed instantly, forgetting why he had come into the bathroom in the first place.

"I'm going to give you a massage. It'll make you feel better, I promise," I purred. "But it will work better if I take off your shirt." I leaned down to unbutton it as I had done to a hundred men before him. I stood directly in front of him, standing so close that my chest was almost touching his face. As I expected, Ben's attention was fixated on how much cleavage he saw. When his shirt was off, I started massaging his shoulders. "You've needed one of these for a long time, haven't you? You are _so_ tense."

"Oh God, yes," he moaned, closing his eyes.

I worked and massaged his flesh and knew he was enjoying every moment of it. "No, this won't work," I said, abruptly stopping what I was doing.

"Why did you stop? What's wrong?"

"I need you to be lying down to do this right. Let's go into the living room where you can stretch out and I can work my magic, okay? But before I do that, let me get these off your hands for a while," I murmured, taking the pill bottles away from him. "You can take care of those later." He didn't resist, letting me do as I wanted.

He readily agreed and got up to do as I asked. I snatched up a bottle and stuck it in my bra, thanking God that I hadn't removed the cotton batting yet. It would muffle the sound of the pills as they rattled.

Ben stretched out face down on the sofa. My hands began to massage his shoulders and as I expected, he groaned as his muscles relaxed.

"You seem tired; how have you been sleeping?" I asked.

"Not too good. A little to the left. Down a bit. Yeah, that's the spot. Right there."

Using all the skill I possessed, I began to slowly massage away the knot of tense muscles that I found just about everywhere I touched. Once his shoulders were done, I moved down his back.

"This feels so good; I might just fall asleep."

"I don't mind. If you feel tired, then go ahead and sleep. You need a good rest, I think."

"Ain't that the truth," Ben murmured.

The only thing on my mind was getting Ben so relaxed and tired so that all he wanted to do was sleep and I could go into the bathroom and rescue my pills before he flushed away the rest. I paid good money to Momma for those pills and I'd do my damndest to save what I could. I needed them.

Suddenly Ben turned over onto his back and wrapped his arms around me so that I was lying on top of him. "What are you doing?" I asked. "I'm not done giving you a massage yet."

"To hell with the rest of my back, it's my front that needs attention," he said.

I looked down and was horrified to see that he'd sprouted a huge hard-on. I wanted to make him relaxed, _not_ horny! Christ, how was I going to get out of this?

I felt Ben's hands caress my breasts. This was definitely not part of my plan but I didn't know how to stop it. I knew that I had to get his hands away from my bra or else he'd find the bottle of pills.

"No, no, Ben," I said coyly and I pushed his hands away from my blouse. "You need your rest. Why don't you have a nap and we can do this later?"

"I don't want it later, I want it now," Ben growled, his fingers intent on undoing the buttons of my blouse.

"No!" I shrieked and jerked away.

"Why not?" Ben asked, raising himself on his elbows and he had the bottle of painkillers in his hand. Somehow he had managed to snatch the pills without my knowing it. "Were you hoping I wouldn't notice these?"

"I can explain…"

"I don't want to hear it." He got to his feet and his voice was so cold, it sent shivers down my spine and not the good kind, either. "Nice try with the massage. It was a good idea but you should think twice about fooling a man who has lived in the world a little longer than you have. I've seen it all."

He went directly to the bathroom. I ran after Ben and got inside before he could lock the door behind him. I made a grab for the pill bottle but he only held it above his head and out of my reach. I tried ducking under his arm but he anticipated my moves and blocked me. With his free hand, he held me off while the other removed the lids and poured them into the toilet.

"Goddamn you! Why are you doing this to me?"

"I'm doing it because I love you, Sherry. If I didn't care about you, it would be different." He pushed the flipper down and I watched the pills disappear. "I'm sorry, kid, but I can't stand by and let you kill yourself."

"You son of a bitch! Do you have any idea, any _fucking_ idea at all how much it hurts me to have sex sometimes? You don't know the meaning of pain, you're only a man. Before I was given those pills, I couldn't sit down sometimes because my cunt or ass hurt so much! I'd lie awake for hours, sometimes only getting two or three hours of sleep! GODDAMN YOU!" I flew at him, scratching and clawing at any exposed skin I could reach. When I was too tired to fight any more, I slumped to the floor and started sobbing.

"You think I don't know how much you hurt sometimes? Well, you're wrong because I do. Sable told me everything. She's told me all the times she's heard you crying at night. If there was another way, don't you think I'd jump at it to spare you?"

When I didn't reply, Ben picked me up in his arms and carried me to his bed. I was so exhausted that I only remained awake long enough to feel the covers being pulled over me before I fell asleep.

lll

It was 3:30 a.m. when I woke up. I lay in bed for a long time, just listening to the silence of the night, trying to figure out a way to beat Ben at his own game. Why didn't I think of it before? I'd make sure he was asleep and then sneak out! It was so simple; I had to bury my face in the covers so the sound of my giggles was muffled.

I sat up in bed, waiting and listening for any noise but the only thing I heard was my heart pounding in my ears. I swung my feet to the floor and waited ten long minutes before I dared to stand up. Once I did that, I waited again. My first instinct was to hurry and get out as soon as I could but I knew that would be stupid. If I was in a hurry, I'd get careless and make a noise and that would fuck everything right up.

If Ben was still awake and caught me out of bed, I would tell him I had to go to the bathroom. It was a plausible excuse and one that he certainly wouldn't question. In that case, I'd go back to bed like a good little girl and try again later. He couldn't watch me like a hawk every second of the day, could he? Sooner or later, his guard would slip and I would take advantage of it the first chance I could.

Thankfully I was still dressed so I didn't have fumble around in the dark for my clothes and run the risk of making any sound which might arouse Ben's suspicions. I tiptoed to the door and opened it, standing in the doorway and listening. My heart sunk when I saw one small lamp was on and the TV set was turned on low. I was about to go back to bed and give up trying to escape, when I heard the sound of Ben's steady, deep snoring. He was asleep!

I decided not to look for my shoes or my purse; hunting for them would only cost me valuable time and time was something I didn't have a lot of. I didn't have a dime to my name but I wasn't worried about how I was going to get home: this wouldn't be the first time I paid for a taxi ride by giving the driver a quick blowjob or fuck in the back seat. Besides, most of the owners of every major cab company in Sin City knew me by now anyway. If worse came to worse, I could always walk. I'd done it before.

All that lay between me and freedom was the door. I put my hand on the door knob and twisted, hoping against hope that the door wouldn't creak as it opened…

"Going somewhere?" Ben's deep voice asked from the sofa. He stood up and came toward me. Instinctively I shrank away, thinking that he was going to punish me for attempting to escape but he didn't. He stood in front of me and waited for me to answer.

"I was looking for the bathroom," I said.

"Bathroom's back there," Ben said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "I guess you got turned around and forgot where it was, huh?"

As Ben came closer to me, I gasped. Ben looked awful. The scratches I'd given him were more evident now. I hadn't realized until now that some of them were deep enough to draw blood.

Ben saw my reaction and chuckled wryly. "One or two more scratches won't make much of a difference to my ugly mug."

"You can't keep me a prisoner here!"

"No, I can't. I can't make you do anything you don't want to." He walked past me and opened the door. "If this is what you want, then go."

"You mean that?"

"Yup. But let me tell you something: if you go back, you will be sold to the highest bidder. Probably to some creep that likes to hit women. Or maybe to some guy who loves fucking little girls and wants you to play dress-up. If you stay here with me, I won't do any of those things to you and you know it. I'll leave you alone. But let me make one thing clear: I told you that I'm gonna get you clean and free from drugs and I mean to do it. It's going to be hell. I've been through withdrawal myself so I know what I'm talking about." He took my hands in his. "But you won't have to go through it alone. I'll be here every step of the way. I'll hold your hand. I'll give you a hug if you need it. Whaddaya say, Sherry?"

"Why are you doing this? No one gives a damn about me. All I am is a fairly pretty girl with a good set of tits. If the price is right, any man can fuck me. Why do you care?"

"You think you're only _fairly_ pretty? No, you're more than that. Much more."

"You really think I'm pretty?"

"Hell, kid, I've seen some women in magazines that don't look as gorgeous as you are now even on their best day! And the way you fill out those tight sweaters is a turn-on to every man over twelve and under ninety! Every time I'm near you, I want to throw you on the bed and…Well, never mind that now. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I care what happens to you because I--I love you."

My mouth dropped open and I couldn't speak. For the first time in a long time, I felt happiness rush through my body. Then, just as quickly, disappointment took its place. I was a whore and whores like me don't deserve to be loved. I was Momma's meal ticket until the next innocent young girl came along and took my place.

For his own reasons, he felt the misguided need to save me. Ben didn't love me—he only felt sorry for me. It was only a matter of time before he'd ask me to repay him for his kindness by sharing his bed. A good fuck on my part in exchange for a few good deeds on his—it was a fair exchange.

Until I looked at Ben's face and saw it turn red with anger, I did not realize that I had spoken the words out loud.

"I don't wanna _ever_ hear those words out of your mouth again, do you hear?" Ben raised his hand and for the first and only time, he hit me. I stumbled back and landed butt-first on the floor.

Ben knelt down and took me by the shoulders and shook me so hard I thought my head would detach from my body. "Do you really think that little of me; that I'm only being nice to you so that I can fuck you? Goddamn it, girl, when are you going to get it through your thick skull that I love you?"

Ben grabbed me by the shoulders. His grip was like iron and he was squeezing so hard I was beginning to lose feeling in my arms.

"You're hurting me!"

"Aw Christ, kid, I'm sorry! I'll never…I promise!"

Without warning, I heard him emit big gulping gasps and his body shook. He held his head in his hands. He was crying. No force on earth could have stopped me as I held him in my arms and comforted him. He had done the same service to me when I needed it and I was returning the favour. I ran my hands down his head and around his shoulders as his face nuzzled my breasts.

When he got control of himself again, he drew away and looked into my eyes. I wiped his tears away and it wasn't until he did the same thing to me that I realized I'd been crying too.

Where he slapped me burned and he touched the area with his fingertips before brushing my skin with his lips. It stung a little and I tried not to flinch but he felt my body quiver under his touch.

"I swear to you, Sherry, I will never raise my hand to you again."

"I'd like to believe you, Ben, I really would, but you see, a long time ago my father told me about men who hit their wives. They'd swear up and down that they would never do it again but when my dad was on duty, he would only have to hear the address of the disturbance to know that the man had broken his word."

"I know. I know." Ben said. "But I mean it."

"So did they. Until the next time they got mad. Then the cycle of beatings and apologies would start all over again."

Ben said nothing. There was a strange stillness about him that told me that I wasn't the first woman he'd smacked around. I didn't want to ask but I had to know. "You've hit a woman before, haven't you?" It wasn't a question.

He hung his head and stared at his hands. "Yes."

"Because she made you angry or because you were told to?"

"Sherry, I—"

"Tell me!

"I won't tell you! I can't!"

In that second, I knew the truth. "Oh my God, you've killed women, haven't you?"

When he came to my room at Momma's, he'd told me he killed people. At the time, I automatically assumed they were all men, but the stricken look on his face now told me otherwise.

"How _could_ you?"

The horrible idea that he had done to another woman the same things I had been subjected to at the Roarke estate was revealed without him saying a word.

Visions of women being held down and violated by Ben flashed before my eyes. With his superior size and strength, they'd had no chance against him. Once down on the ground or on a bed, they were at his mercy. And he was big enough so that if he wasn't careful, he would a woman apart if she wasn't wet enough.

"Sherry, please, you have to understand! I'm not that same man anymore! I've changed!" Ben watched as I jerked away from his touch.

"When was the last time you raped a woman? Tell me!"

"Years ago. She owed the Senator a lot of money. She said she couldn't pay; she needed more time. Roarke was running out of patience and decided to make an example of her. There were one or two others who couldn't or wouldn't pay for one reason or another. I was told to take her to Roarke's bedroom where they were waiting. Roarke told me to do whatever was necessary to make the others see reason. I beat her up but Roarke said it wasn't enough. He needed something more graphic. He told me to rape her as hard and brutally as I could and I did. Roarke made them stay and watch. He told them that if they didn't pay up, I'd do the same to their wives and daughters."

"And?"

"I was told I'd get a big bonus if I did a good job. Roarke got all his money later that same day and I got mine. He kept his word." Ben said the last words as a whisper. I couldn't help but notice that Ben wouldn't look me in the eyes.

I shuddered. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to be raped by Ben, especially as a punishment and in front of other people.

"I hated to do it. I was only following orders!"

"Liar! You could have refused! No one held a gun to your head and demanded that you get an erection or they'd pull the trigger. You raped her because you wanted to. You got off on it. You enjoyed it. You make me sick! You are just like Roarke and his sons, you know that? You're as evil and twisted as they are!"

"Don't say that."

"Why not? It's the truth, isn't it?"

"I'm not like them!"

"No? If they want someone killed, _you_ did it, not them. If they want to make an example of someone, especially a woman, _you_ raped her, not them."

"I'm sorry for what I did, okay?"

"Did you have an orgasm?"

"What?"

"When you were raping her, did you come?"

"Yes."

"Then you enjoyed brutalizing her. You enjoyed hearing her scream and cry and you were turned on by it. A woman's fear in a sexual situation is an aphrodisiac and pigs like you get aroused by it. Fear is power."

Ben tilted his head and looked at me strangely. I smiled in my most sarcastic manner. "I've fucked a few shrinks, so I know a thing or two about human nature. So what happened to this woman?"

"I saw her once in the street about a month later. I wanted to talk to her and see how she was doing, but as soon as she saw me, she ran. I found out later that she killed herself."

"What was her name?"

"I don't know."

"What did she look like?"

"It was a long time ago. I don't really remember."

"Of course not. To you, she never had a name or a face but she was someone's girlfriend, daughter or sister. You ever hear the old saying about a woman being nothing but the life support system for a cunt? That's all she was to you and that's why you don't remember anything about her except that she was good to take your frustrations out on."

I was so dizzy and nauseous; I could hardly stand on my feet. I felt my knees give out and I slumped back to the floor. Tears streamed from my eyes. I could understand completely why she ran from him. She thought he was coming after her again and rather than go through another assault, her only option was to take her own life. She did it because she feared another repeat performance. Looking at Ben, I certainly couldn't blame her for being afraid of him.

The idea that I'd almost fallen for this fiend that got pleasure from hurting another woman made my stomach churn. Ben reached out to me but I shrank away. "Don't touch me! Don't you _ever_ touch me again!"

"You don't mean that!"

"You are damn right I do! Tell me something: when I was at the mansion, were you on the sidelines, giving pointers on the most painful way to rape a woman?"

"No! I would never--!"

"You're a monster and you are capable of anything! God, I hate you!"

"You don't mean that…Don't say that! I love you, Sherry!"

I pointed to my stinging, swollen cheek. "I don't want to think what you'd do if you hated me. Make a fist and see if it'll fit inside of my cunt like Roarke did?"

"I'm sorry!" Ben's despair made me freeze in my tracks for a moment. I wanted to forgive him. I wanted to throw myself into his arms but I couldn't. He was responsible for the death of an innocent woman whose only crime had been being desperate for money but too poor to pay it back.

"Saying sorry won't change the past. Saying sorry won't bring that woman back. You're a monster and that's all there is to it. I'm leaving and I'm never coming back." I got to my feet and forced myself to walk away before my determination to leave was gone.

Ben took my arm. "Sherry, listen to me. I've tried to forget what I did and get on with my life, but I can't. Sometimes I can still her screams in my head at night. That's why I need you. Knowing you has helped me become a better person."

"Good for you," I stated coldly. "As punishment for your actions, you don't deserve to have another good night's sleep for as long as you live."

"You may not believe it, but I _have _suffered for what I've done."

"Oh, please. Don't insult my intelligence by saying you've suffered. You don't know the meaning of the word suffering. That woman did and thanks to my stepfather, I do, too. I'm glad you're miserable. Goodbye, Ben."

"Where are you going?"

"As far away as I can get from you."

"NO!"

I heard a lifetime of suppressed anguish in that one word. I glanced over my shoulder for a moment and I saw Ben fall to his knees, tears streaming down his face as he begged me not to go. I knew that if I hesitated for even one second, I would give in; I would turn around and go back to him and that was something that mustn't happen, no matter what.

I ran from the building and continued until I couldn't run anymore. I braced myself against a doorway until I could catch my breath. I hadn't had a chance to grab my shoes before I left and my feet were killing me. I slumped to the sidewalk, too weak to stand.

I started to cry. As I brought my hand up to wipe my eyes, I felt the weight of the vial of cocaine in my sleeve. I looked at it against the streetlight and saw that it was half full. Remembering how much Richard had given me, I estimated that there were three doses left. If I took it all, it would probably kill me but at that moment, I didn't care. I had nothing to live for.

Carefully, I poured it on the back of my hand and snorted it before repeating the process three more times until there was no more left. As before, the rush hit me hard and fast. All I could do now was try to find a dark corner and hope no one found me before the drugs took my life.

There was an alley nearby and I crawled there since I was too stoned to stand. There was broken glass all over the place. My hands and knees were cut to pieces. I was bleeding a lot but I ignored the blood and the pain, focusing all my strength to keep going until I reached the end. I gathered some dirty cardboard boxes that were lying around and pulled them over me so that if anyone came this way and saw the pile, they would just think it was just trash and go on their way.

Once I was done, I lay on the ground and waited to die. My last thought before the darkness came was that Roarke had been right: I was nothing but garbage.


	6. Barely Alive

Barely Alive

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to the movie Sin City or the graphic novels. This story has nothing to do with the established plot lines in the novels—it's just my interpretation of how Marv's parents met.

A/N: To CutieGotBooty: Thanks for the review! I dedicate this chapter to you!

lll

Movement. I felt my body being picked up and carried and heard a dull thud as a car door was slammed shut. There was gentle rocking and swaying as the car began to move. I opened my eyes and saw street lights whiz past the car window like a million shooting stars. I was in the back of a police car, its sirens and lights going full blast. A man's coat was over me and it smelled of aftershave. It felt warm and soothing and I snuggled against it and as I did so, I discovered that my head was in a man's lap. My hair was being stroked and it was comforting.

"Thank God, you're still alive! Christ, can't this damn wreck go any faster?" A man's voice growled. I groaned in disappointment. Ben was the one holding me. I had ran out in the middle of the night but he'd found me anyway.

"We'll be there in a few minutes," came the driver's reply.

I tried to turn my head to see who was speaking but it was too hard. I could feel myself slipping away. I was dying but I wasn't afraid. White light filled my eyes and I saw an indefinable shadow in the distance. As I watched, it grew steadily larger as if it was walking towards me. The light became brighter but it didn't hurt my eyes. I was dazzled by its brilliance. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. The shadow took human form and in that moment, I knew who it was. It was my mother coming to welcome me into heaven. She was smiling.

"She doesn't _have_ a few minutes!" Ben shouted. "She's dying! C'mon kid, don't do this. I need you to stay with me. Please?"

The driver of the car spoke again. "Try to keep her conscious."

Someone was shaking me and yelling my name but the urge to close my eyes was too strong.

lll

The days passed but I wasn't aware of it. I lay in a coma, suspended between life and death. Machines hummed and beeped as tubes ran in and out of my body, feeding me, monitoring me and carrying away my waste. There was no pain.

It was only in the last hour that I felt like I was floating; hovering just over my bed. Because I was more dead than alive, my mind was still functional even if my body was not. As a result, I was the proverbial fly on the wall. I could see and hear everything that was going on and no one knew I was there.

Doctor Simms came into my room and Ben stood up, watching as the doctor checked the machines and examined me.

"How is she?" Ben asked when he was done.

Dr. Simms sighed. "I wish I had better news, but I don't. I'm sorry."

"Sorry? Why are you sorry? How is she?"

"I'm afraid that unless a miracle happens in the next few hours, Sherry will never wake up."

Ben's face paled. "How…do you know? Maybe you should run a few more tests just to be sure."

"We've run every test we can."

"Well, do it again!" Ben shouted. "Do it until you're sure!"

"I _am_ sure." Dr. Simms reached out and touched Ben on the arm. "I am very sorry, sir, but we've done everything we can. At this point, it would be more humane if you let her go."

"Let her go? You mean I should just let her die?"

"Yes."

"How would…how would you do that?"

"We'd remove her feeding tubes and let Nature take its course."

"Wait. You'd let her…starve? How long would that take?"

"In her weakened condition, not long. About a day."

Ben shuddered. "Twenty-four hours of suffering like that? I can't put her through that. She's better off dead…" He could not continue.

Dr. Simms glanced at Ben's sidearm and a look passed between the two men but I didn't understand. "Yes. But don't make a decision now. I'll give you some time to take all of this in. I'll be back later and we can discuss it further."

Ben nodded and sat down heavily. He removed Matilda from its holster and was fingering the gun in an almost loving manner. He was still doing that ten minutes later when Richard came into the room.

"It's about time you showed up," Ben said.

"I was out of the city until this morning. I came here as soon as I heard," Richard said. He frowned when he saw the gun. "What are you doing with that?" He came forward and took a look at Ben. "Jesus, man, you look like hell. Are you all right?"

Ben didn't answer.

"How is she?"

"The doctor just left. He told me that there is no chance of Sherry ever waking up."

Richard's voice was strained and anxious. "What the hell happened?"

"She ran out on me. I tried to follow but she was running too quick and I lost her. It took a while, but I found her in an alley, dying from an overdose of the poison that you gave her."

"How much did she take?"

"All of it."

"_All of it?_ Christ, there was enough in the vial to kill her."

"If I hadn't found her when I did, she would have died. How could you be so fucking stupid in giving coke to a kid? What the hell were you thinking?"

"If she hadn't thought you left her for another woman, she wouldn't have been depressed. She wouldn't have needed something to make her forget the pain you caused her. You are as much to blame as I am so spare me the holier-than-thou crap!"

"Fuck you, Counsellor! Who the hell are you to point fingers at me?"

"Keep your voice down! In case you haven't noticed, this is a hospital."

"No shit, Sherlock! Perhaps we should settle this outside, huh?"

"Look, I understand how upset you are, but getting into a fistfight with me isn't going to help the situation."

I could hear the sneer in Ben's voice when he answered. "Yeah, I thought you'd say that. What's the matter, Mr. Big Shot? Too chickenshit to fight because you'll get your fancy, custom-made suit wrinkled?"

"You watch your mouth, buddy!"

There they were, two angry men standing toe to toe, each trying to intimidate the other into backing down. When I was in Grade 7, I'd seen a nature film where two male elks would fight over a female and that's exactly what was happening in my hospital room.

I saw Richard lean down and stroke my jaw, his fingers gently skimming down my skin until he reached my neck. I heard him gasp. He pulled aside the neck of my hospital gown down to my shoulders. He saw the bruises that Ben left. "You sonofabitch!"

Ben stumbled back as Richard punched him.

"How _dare_ you lay one fucking finger on her, you goddamned Neanderthal? You're so far down on the evolutionary scale, you're not fit to lace her shoes but you think you can hit her? Not while I'm around!"

_WHAP!_

Ben's head jerked back from a hard right hook. That's gonna hurt in the morning, I thought. I felt a surge of admiration for Richard; Ben outweighed him by at least thirty pounds, if not more. Not only that, Richard was primarily a pencil-pusher—sitting on your ass in a courtroom all day is not conducive to a maintaining a trim physique—whereas Ben took good care of his body. From what I had seen and felt of the muscles in his shoulders, it wouldn't surprise me if Ben could easily bench press Richard's body weight without breaking a sweat.

"I see sleazeballs like you in court every day! Tough guys who like hitting women and kids? Why not try me on for size?"

I didn't need my eyes to tell me that Richard was angry, I could hear it. When he got pissed off, his New Jersey accent rang out loud and clear. Despite the fact that he now wore thousand-dollar suits and rode around in a chauffer driven limousine, Richard was still a Jersey boy at heart. He told me that his growing up in the poor side of Fort Lee taught him how to defend himself. It certainly didn't hurt that he was in the boxing team at Princeton. Twenty years ago, Richard could have given Ben a good fight but easy living and lack of practice dulled his talent.

_POW!_

Ben's breath left his body as Richard slammed his fist solidly into his gut. Ben swayed but he stayed on his feet. "Is that the best you can do, cocksucker?" Expletives now filled the room, some of which I'd never heard before and Ben was using words that would make even a vice cop blush.

Just as Richard's fist was raised to deliver another blow, Ben caught it in his hand and squeezed. "You've had your chance, Counsellor. Now it's my turn."

I knew that if help didn't come soon, someone's brains and blood would be dripping from the walls. Since Richard couldn't defend himself for long, Ben would pound him into a bloody smudge and if Jones and Brown were standing outside the door, they wouldn't hesitate to blow Ben's head off as payback.

There was nothing I could do other than watch and listen. But I heard what they did not--there was a commotion at the door.

"How dare you? I'll teach you to try and stop me from doing anything on my floor! Get out of my way!" a woman ordered. "If you won't move, I will make you! Take that!" There was a noise followed by a man's grunt of pain.

I knew who was at the door: Head Nurse Gertrude Williams had come to see what was making the racket. She was a diminutive no-nonsense woman in charge of the rooms in East Wing of Basin City General Hospital and she ran her floor like a military camp. From what I knew of her, she could give the worst hard-ass drill sergeant in the army a run for his money.

Jones and Brown had been stupid enough to try to stop her from coming in and she'd given both of them a good hard kick. She thought I was in trouble and she'd be damned if she was about to let a couple of hired bodyguards stop her from performing her duties!

"What is going on here?" she demanded. At her back were Jones and Brown and I saw that Jones was holding his crotch with a pained expression on his face while Brown was rubbing his shin and cursing under his breath.

"Get them out of here," she ordered Jones and Brown and they did her bidding without a word of protest. They strode past her and forcibly pulled Ben and Richard apart and held them off from attacking each other. Nurse Williams had no right to give them orders but they did as they were told. However, obeying her was easier said than done. Jones and Brown struggled to keep their grip on the two men--Ben and Richard were biting and scratching each other like two cats in a sack.

"I might have known you'd bring your bodyguards here to protect your fat ass!" Ben snarled. "Two against one, huh? Those are my kind of odds and once I'm done with them, I'll get you, you drug-dealing shyster!"

"Enough!" Nurse Williams demanded. "Need I remind you gentlemen that this is a hospital, not a schoolyard? Take this bullshit outside where it belongs. My patient needs her rest so all of you get out! _Now_!"

She looked over her horn-rimmed glasses at Richard. "Get your hired goons out of here. I treat enough patients in the ER with gunshot wounds without Tweedledee and Tweedledum inflicting more. As for you," she said, turning to Ben, "If I was your mother, I'd wash your mouth out with soap for using language like that. Until both of you can behave like civilized human beings, I don't want you on my floor again."

I heard four sets of footsteps recede into the distance. Nurse Williams remained in the room, probably to see that they all left.

Suddenly, I felt a presence at my side; it was something I couldn't explain, I just knew it. I was afraid to turn my head.

"Sherry? It's me, honey," my mother said. I was so overwhelmed, I couldn't speak. I reached for her hand and her fingers closed over mine.

"Mom?" I whispered. "Are you really here or am I dreaming?"

She smiled and shook her head. "No, this is not a dream, Sherry." Tears fell from her eyes as she looked at me. "I'm so sorry for leaving you. I had no idea Tom would hurt you like that…"

"That's OK. You didn't mean to get sick. It's not your fault. Please don't cry, Mom."

"I can't stay long. I only have a few minutes but what I have to say is important so you must listen. You've been in a coma for nearly a week. You need to wake up now or else you won't be able to wake up at all."

"But I don't want to wake up! I want to go with you. I want to be with you and Dad. In heaven."

My mother shook her head. "It's not your time yet."

"I don't care! I'm being kept alive by machines. I'm better off dead."

"Nonsense. I don't believe that and neither should you."

"It's the truth. If I wake up, what kind of life am I going to have? More importantly, how am I going to pay the bill?"

"You needn't worry about that; Richard took care of it before he came in to see you just now. They both care for you, especially Ben. He loves you."

I wanted desperately to believe her but I remembered everything I'd said to Ben in his apartment. "No, Mom, that can't be right. It's not possible."

My mom smiled and cocked her head. "Oh? Why not?"

"We had a fight. I said some awful things…there's no way he loves me anymore."

She smiled sadly. "I know what you said. Every word. Let me tell you something, Sherry, Ben was telling the truth when he said he loved you. Did you notice that Ben is wearing his gun?"

"Yes. What about it?"

"He's made his mind up that if or when the doctors said there was absolutely no hope for you, he'd use the gun on you then himself. He thinks it would be better if he killed you quickly than have a machine keeping you alive forever."

"Oh God, Mom. He'd kill himself? Why would he do that? He's Catholic like us--he'd know it was a sin and he'd go to Hell!"

"He doesn't care about his soul. All he cares about is two things: you waking up and if that's not possible, he's determined that you not suffer any longer. And if you don't wake up, that's exactly what he's going to do."

"But it makes no sense! I called Ben a monster, even comparing him to the Roarke men! What man could forgive a woman for saying that?"

"You underestimate the power of love. Ben _has_ forgiven you. From the moment you were admitted, he's hardly left your side except to grab a bite to eat or use the bathroom. He's sat here hour after hour, holding your hand and talking to you. I've watched him."

"He was here all that time? I thought I was dreaming."

"It wasn't a dream. Every time he got kicked out your room, he'd come sneaking back in five minutes later. The staff gave up trying to keep him out. Look at him: he hasn't showered or shave since he's been here."

She was right—while he was fighting with Richard, it seemed that he'd lost weight and there were dark circles under his eyes.. I was sad that he was jeopardizing his health because of me.

"Even if I do wake up, I'm still a whore, Mom. We have no chance of being happy. I have a contract and I can't leave until it is paid off. So whether I like it or not, I have to be one for years."

My mom glanced over her shoulder at something I couldn't see. She nodded her head and turned back to me. "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but your contract will be a thing of the past very, very soon. Your whole life is ahead of you. If Ben doesn't have a problem with your past, neither should you."

"But what if we are out somewhere and a former john recognizes me?"

She laughed. "So? If any man tries to hurt you, I know that Ben will take care of him pretty quick."

"But why should he have to? He shouldn't have worry about me running into former clients and what they might say or do. Ben deserves better than to be burdened with a woman who's screwed most of the men in this town."

"If he can live with defending your honour from time to time if need be, then you can too. That's his decision to make, not yours."

"You make it sound so easy."

"It isn't going to be easy but it is possible to let go of your past. Whether or not it happens is entirely up to you."

It was surreal, hovering over my body with my mother at my side, watching Nurse Williams take my vital signs as well as perform other medical procedures. I heard her sigh as she shook her head sadly.

"You see?" My mother said, pointing down, "She cares about you too. I've watched her. To her, you are not just another patient that she has to care for; you are a person worth saving."

"How does Nurse Williams know if I am worth saving or not? She doesn't like me. She doesn't like anyone. She's just an old battleaxe who probably never got a second glance from a man in her life."

"Don't judge a book by its cover, Sherry."

Something in my mother's tone made me look at her. "What do you know about her? Are you allowed to tell me?"

"Yes. She wasn't always a 'battleaxe' as you put it. Not by a long shot."

I was intrigued. "What was she before she became a nurse?" I wanted to be a nurse when I was a little girl. I admired and respected them and always got pleasure from watching them in their white starched uniforms going about their tasks, saving lives and giving comfort to those who were sick.

"A long time ago, what you are now, she once was."

"Prim and proper Nurse Williams was a prostitute?" I looked down at her, hardly believing what my mother had just told me. With her hair pulled back in a severe bun and no makeup, she was not what I could call attractive enough for men to want to pay for her company.

"She certainly was." My mother smiled. "She was quite the beauty in her time. After being beaten up by a man one too many times, she decided that she'd had enough. She took a good, hard look at herself in the mirror one day and decided to change her life. She cleaned herself up, went to nursing school and got married."

"Does her husband know…about her past, I mean?"

"Of course he did. That's how they met. She has two children who are grown up with families of their own. She has four grandchildren now with another on the way. Think about it. Think about the possibilities."

If she could live a normal life as a respectable wife and mother then perhaps so could I. But…no. It was a nice dream but that's all it was. I could never have the same happy ending. Never.

"No. I can't, Mom. Maybe you don't know this, but I can't have children. The doctor told me so."

"Doctors, no matter how many diplomas they have hanging on a wall, are still human. They make mistakes. Believe in that, Sherry. Pray and believe. Ah, some new developments—Richard and Ben have returned. Let's see what's going to happen."

She pointed and I saw Ben and Richard came back into my room. They were no worse off than before. I sighed in relief that they hadn't killed each other.

"Well?" Nurse Williams demanded.

"We care too much about Sherry to jeopardize her recovery."

"I'm glad to hear it," Nurse Williams said curtly. "If I let you stay with her, will you both promise to behave yourselves?"

Both men mumbled their agreement and Nurse Williams left.

Ben waited until she was out of earshot before speaking. "About what we were talking about outside--what do you think?"

"I agree. It would be more humane if she died…you know, your way. I don't want to even think about that, but I have to be realistic. Sherry wouldn't want to live like this."

"No, she wouldn't."

"Afterwards, what will you do?"

Ben put his sidearm next to his temple. "If she dies, I don't have any reason to live."

Richard nodded. He had to swallow several times before he could get his words out. "Can you do it…good? I mean, will she feel—anything?"

"I can do it quick and clean. I won't miss--for her _or_ for me."

"Were you thinking of doing it…here?"

"No. I'll take her to my car and we'll go to the lake. I know the perfect place where we can be alone. There's fresh air and fields and flowers and stuff nearby. She'd like that. But my main problem will be getting out of here without being seen."

"My men can create a diversion so you can get her out of here without being seen."

"Thanks."

"But what if she comes out of it before--? What if we're jumping the gun here?" Richard winced at the unfortunate choice of words. "Is there the slightest chance that she'll wake up?"

Ben stared at his feet for a moment before meeting Richard's eyes. "No. The doctor will be back soon and he'll tell you the same thing. But you can talk to him for yourself."

"I'd appreciate that, but let's assume the best before we assume the worst. What's most important is that we help her—_when_ she wakes up. This fighting between ourselves isn't going to get us anywhere. We're both to blame for what happened."

Ben took Richard's lead and I could tell he was still hopeful. They were playing the _what if_ game. What if I woke up? What if everything turned out okay?

"Ain't that the truth. So what do we do?" Ben growled.

"Let me think." I heard the sharp click of Richard's expensive Italian shoes on the floor as he rapidly paced back and forth. "First, we have to make sure she gets cleaned up. No more drugs."

"Don't you think I know that? That's what I was tryin' to do. I was gonna make her stay with me for a few days until she got that crap out of her system."

"That was a good idea. It's not your fault it didn't work."

"We had a fight and she left…Anyway, all the cold turkey in the world will be useless if she goes back to that whorehouse she's living in. That bitch got her hooked on those pills and she's ready and able to get Sherry right back on them. You know it as well as I do. She's got to get out of there before it kills her. But how the hell can we do that?"

"Someone needs to buy her contract."

"I'll do it," Ben said.

"Can you afford that? Ten thousand dollars is a lot of money."

"The Roarke family have treated me good all these years. I've done some saving. Yeah, I can pay off Sherry's contract."

"No, no. I can't let you do that by yourself. We got her into this mess and we'll get her out. Together. What do you say?"

"You've got yourself a deal, Counsellor. I gotta know though: where did you learn to fight like that?"

Richard chuckled. "Living on the wrong side of the tracks teaches you to defend yourself pretty quick. I boxed a little in college as well. What did you think of my technique?"

"A little on the slow side, maybe, but not too shabby for a pencil-pusher."

"Slowness comes with age and no practice. You're pretty good yourself, Ben. But I think you broke my goddamn hand. Your jaw must be made of concrete."

"I'm not gonna be surprised if I have a few less teeth tomorrow," Ben cracked his jaw and looked at Richard with reluctant admiration. "If it gets around that I got my ass kicked by a lawyer, I may not be working for the Roarke family no more.'

My mother's image was fading but I heard her quiet gentle laugh float through the air. "Men! One minute they're slamming each other against the walls and the next they're joking like old friends. That's why you love these two so much. You love Richard because he reminds you of your father--don't worry, he doesn't mind—and you love Ben because he is who he is."

I turned my attention to them. Richard was grinning. "Your secret is safe with me. And if you do get fired, Don Battaglio could always use somebody with your talents in his organization. He pays better too. Keep it in mind."

"I will."

"You ought to get some ice for your jaw."

Ben returned the grin. "And you need some for your hand. How about we get it now? We should be back in a minute or so."

"Yes. And maybe Sherry will have woken up by then, right?"

"Of course. Absolutely. By the time we get back, she'll be up and about, hungry and squalling for some real food, not this mushy tube stuff."

"Right."

They were only trying to buoy up each other's spirits before Doctor Simms returned to hear Ben make the decision no man should ever have to make for the woman he loved.

"Wake up now, sweetie," my mother's voice said. "Time is running out. This is for the best, trust me."

My mother's hand left mine and was replaced by Ben's. I came back to my body even though I didn't want to. However, I trusted my mother and her judgement so I took the biggest gamble of my life. I made my eyes open. I sighed. I was so weak; it was hardly a breath on the wind, but Ben heard it.

"Oh my God, she's awake! Rich, call the doctor! _She's awake!_"

Through a blurry, groggy haze, I heard Richard as he ran for the door and yelled for someone to come.

"C'mon kid, hold on until the doc can look at you, okay? Please babe, please come back to me."

I turned my head and looked into Ben's blue eyes. They were swimming with tears and he brought my hand up to his mouth and kissed my fingers. He was in such pain; I knew I had to say how sorry I was for my cruel words. I opened my mouth to speak but Ben put his fingers over my lips. "Don't say anything. Save your strength."

I nodded and felt myself being gathered into his strong arms. "It's a miracle, it's a goddamn miracle," Ben said over and over. His tears felt hot against my cold skin.

I was alive. And I was glad. "Thanks, Mom," I whispered and as I felt myself coming back to life, I heard her sigh contentedly.


	7. Sherry Recuperates

Sherry Recuperates

Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with the Sin City franchise in any way, shape or form.

lll

It took more than a week before I felt myself again. Not long afterwards, I had a visitor--Momma. It took place when Ben and Nurse Williams were in the room when she came. Thank God for small miracles.

"From what I hear, you're getting better all the time," Momma said with a smirk as she looked at me. "You've been missed."

I knew she wasn't talking about my friends, Sable and Iris. She was referring to my clients. Already she was intending for me to get back to work immediately. I shuddered. I could already imagine hard hands groping and pawing at my body and spreading my legs. I whimpered in fear although I wasn't aware of it. "No, please…I can't go back—"

"You can and you will and that's all there is to it," Momma said.

"She's not leaving this hospital until the doctors say otherwise," Nurse Williams said firmly, standing in front of Momma, her hands on her hips. "And that's not going to be for a while yet."

"And when that happens, she sure as hell's not going anywhere with you," Ben spoke up.

"She has a legal contract to stay with me until it's paid off and that's final. You may have stopped me from taking her today but just keep in mind that neither of you can stay with her twenty-four hours a day."

"Watch us," Nurse Williams snarled.

Momma knew she was beaten. She tried one last approach. "I own you, Cherry, and no matter what I have to do, I will get you back where you belong, make no mistake about that."

"Like hell you will," Ben snarled, standing over her, his hands already curled into formidable fists.

"We'll see," she said, pursing her lips together in anger. She turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

"She's going to try to take her, you know," Nurse Williams said, looking at Ben and me.

"Yeah, I know."

"But I have to go with her," I said. "She's right—until my contract is paid off, she owns me." However much I hated hearing or saying it, it was true.

"We'll see what Rich has to say about that. He's one of the best lawyers in the state. He'll know what's what." Ben squeezed my hand. "No matter if it kills me, you're not going back there ever again. I love you, Sherry."

"I love you too, Ben."

There was an unexpected hopeful look in his eyes that I didn't understand. "Do you love me enough to want…could you think of me and you getting…? Aw, forget it," he grumbled. "How soon can she leave, Gert?" he asked, turning his attention to Nurse Williams.

I thought it was an odd way for him to address her but my main concern was finding out when I could leave with Ben. I was sick of staying here.

"Actually, the doctor was going to discharge her today but I was damned if I was going to tell that woman," she said.

"Good. I'll take her to my place until we figure things out."

"She needs her rest," Nurse Williams said, sternly looking over her horn-rimmed glasses at Ben.

Ben flushed and shuffled his feet as he looked at the floor. "Yes, Ma'am."

I lay back against the pillows. I felt relaxed and healthy for the first time in ages. Because of my hospital stay, I was now clean from drugs and I didn't need them anymore. However, as Ben warned me, an addict is an addict, no matter how much time passes. I didn't care—I had someone who loved me. And if I needed help in staying clean, I only had to ask. Withdrawal wasn't going to be easy, but with Ben at my side, I couldn't lose.

lll

After my nap, that, I got dressed and waited anxiously for the doctor to give the okay for me to leave. While I was waiting, I was thumbing through a magazine and put it down when I heard Ben at the door. He stood aside to let another man come in first.

He looked vaguely familiar but I couldn't remember where I'd seen him before. He was wearing a policeman's uniform. For an awful moment, I thought I might have slept with him at some point but I couldn't be sure. I'd fucked lots of cops during my tenure at Momma's.

"Sherry, this guy is the one who really saved your life. Don't be a mug, Hardigan. Go and say hello. Sherry's not gonna bite ya."

I gasped. "I remember you! You were the one who drove me to the hospital!"

Hardigan came forward and removed his policeman's cap before extending his hand to me. When I was in the backseat of his patrol car, all I saw was the back of this man's head. I shook his hand gratefully. "I'm glad to see you're okay now, you were looking pretty bad when I saw you last."

I judged his age to be slightly older than Ben but it was hard to tell. He was a very good looking man, and his mouth had a cute way of dimpling at the corner when he smiled. As far as I could see, his only fault was that he had a severely receding hairline but I didn't care.

"When this goofball drives, it's a goddamn miracle if two wheels stay on the pavement when he turns a corner," Ben joked, slapping Hardigan hard on the back. "I thought for sure that old wreck of yours couldn't go past fifty miles an hour."

"I went a lot faster than that when I found out my wife went into labour two months early," John said. "We have a boy, a feisty little guy, named after me. The doctors thought he wouldn't make it but he's at home, growing healthier by the second. Just like you."

I flushed and bent my head. I was ashamed to tell him that I _had_ given up—it was only Ben's love that pulled me back from the edge of death.

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I felt like a bride when Ben carried me into his apartment. "Home sweet home," he said cheerfully. "Excuse the mess; I haven't had a chance to clean up…"

I saw that the furniture was covered in a layer of dust and there were Chinese food containers and pizza boxes scattered here and there around the living room.

"It's fine," I said. "Don't worry about it." I knew why his apartment hadn't been dusted in a while; he'd stayed at my side during the entire time I was hospitalized and even stayed with me afterward.

He put me on my feet with such gentleness; I suppose he was afraid that I was going to break if he handled me any other way. He put his arm around my waist and drew me close. I loved being in his arms again. This was the first time we'd been truly alone for quite a while but while I was recuperating, we'd stolen a few long, smouldering kisses when Nurse Williams' back was turned.

Ben picked me up in his arms again and we headed to his bedroom. He pulled back the covers and tucked me in before getting to his feet and turning away.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"I just have to run an errand or two. I'll be back in a few hours," he said. Shortly afterward, I heard the front door close. I lay in bed and tried to sleep but I was too restless. However, I knew of one way I could repay Ben for everything he'd done for me. I got out of bed and went to the living room.

Two hours later, the room was spotless: I'd dusted and vacuumed as best I could and put all the fast food boxes in the garbage before turning my attention to the mountain of dirty dishes in the sink. The apartment was spick and span but I was now exhausted. I trudged to the bathroom and took a shower before going back to bed.

I woke up when I felt Ben's lips on my forehead.

"You shouldn't have done what you did, but I appreciate it," he said quietly, stroking my hair. "You'll make a wonderful wife."

I kept my eyes closed and my breathing deep and slow, pretending to be asleep so he would keep talking.

"I am so glad that you came out of that coma…I can't tell you how sorry I am for making you feel so bad you wanted to die, Sherry…." He continued to brush his fingers over my face. I could hear his voice catch in his throat as he continued to talk to me, telling me things he'd kept buried inside of him. The night I ran from him, he'd tried to tell me how he felt but I was too angry to listen.

I was listening now.

"If you hadn't woken up when you did, I would've taken you out of the hospital and out to the country, you know, by the lake? Afterward, I was gonna….it doesn't matter now. You're awake and alive and that's what's most important to me. If I'd lost you…"

"But you didn't," I said, reaching up and wrapping my arms around his neck. Ben held me tightly, his entire body next to mine. His breathing changed and I felt him twitch. I knew what he wanted me; I wanted him too.

I moved my head and kissed him.

"I've really missed being able to do that," he said, his lips now against my ear. Before I could kiss him again, he pulled away. "No, you need to rest up—remember what Nurse Williams said?"

"Well, Nurse Williams isn't here, is she?" I murmured. "What she doesn't know won't hurt her."

"No, Sherry. It won't hurt her but it might hurt you and that's a risk I'm not willing to take. You've been through hell. You need to rest."

I only half-heard him. All of my attention was focused on unbuttoning his shirt but it was as if my fingers had suddenly turned into thumbs. Growling in frustration, I ripped his shirt open, sending buttons flying in all directions. I was happy to see that he wasn't wearing an undershirt. My fingers stroked his bare chest and Ben groaned, closing his eyes in pleasure. Hastily, I moved my hands lower and undid his belt before sliding my left hand inside his shorts. He groaned louder. I pushed him onto his back and made quick work of taking off his clothes until he was lying naked beside me. I rose up until I was kneeling between his legs.

I ran my thumb over the head of his shaft, feeling the precum. I used it to lubricate the tip. In no time at all, he was completely hard. My mouth closed over the mushroom head of his dick while my hand stroked his balls.

Ben took my hands in his. "This is our first time together. There's no need to rush this, Sherry," he said softly. "We have all the time in the world."

He was right. I was so used to the 'Wham Bam thank you, ma'am' treatment—I didn't know anything else.

"Let me show you what real lovemaking is all about..."

For the next hour, his lips, hands and tongue were all over my body; licking here, suckling there—I thought I'd go crazy with the powerful lust he was awakening in my body. Even being with Richard on his best day paled in comparison to what Ben was making me feel now.

"I need you inside of me," I said.

I heard him chuckling in the dark. "Not yet, Sherry. Not until I think you're ready."

"But I'm ready _now_!" I whined. Any other words I might have said were frozen in my throat as I felt his hot breath on my pussy lips.

"_Oh God_," I moaned. I bit my lips to stifle a shriek as he latched onto my clit. He mercilessly whipped his tongue back and forth across my nub, driving me closer to the edge of madness. I spread my legs wider and he inserted his thumb into me and moved it around my opening in slow circles. My entire world was now focused on what was happening between my legs; I didn't give a damn about anything else. Of their own accord, my hands gripped Ben by the ears and forced more of his face against the sensitive flesh. The stubble on his face bruised my skin but that only added to the pleasure.

I came hard and long and it was all Ben could do to keep me still. My hips bucked wildly as a result of the nearly unbearable pleasure that I was experiencing. Ben never lessened his assault on my clit until it became too sensitive to endure any longer.

I don't know how long I lay there in Ben's arms, happy and content. He rolled over and on top of me. He took his time in getting the position of his body just right. Because he was so large and so heavy, he put some of his weight on his elbows and knees to prevent his full weight from crushing me.

"Sherry, this is your last chance to say no."

"I'm never going to say that to you," I said hoarsely. "I want you. I _want_ to do this. I have wanted this for a long time."

He slid himself slowly and gently into me. "Am I hurting you?" he whispered.

"No," I whispered back. I let out a deep sigh as I felt Ben move inside of me. This is what I'd wanted for so long; we were finally making love and I felt…complete. I was whole again. Like I did when my mom was healthy and dad was still alive.

I knew Ben could feel it too. He felt loved and desired and needed for the first time in years. Or was I just kidding myself? I didn't think so. I was a part of him as deeply as he was a part of me. Perhaps it stemmed from the first time we saw each other—in that opulent marble bathroom an eternity ago when he held me in his arms and washed away the blood and semen from my torn and bruised body.

It was ironic that the men who ruled high society in Sin City and who had money and power were the ones who brutalized me while Ben, a mere employee, was the only man who thought a whore was also a woman and deserved better than to be treated as a hole. Some men would have only seen me as a piece of meat to be used for pleasure and thrown away afterward. Any other man might've taken their pleasure from me, never bothered by the fact that he was helping himself to the sloppy seconds of the Roarke men.

But Ben did not and the thought never crossed his mind. All he could think about was helping me.

Hell, Ben could've forced me to have sex with him that very night; I was certainly in no condition to object or fight back in any way but…he helped me. He cleaned me up and made sure I went to the hospital when he discovered the severity of my injuries. Another man would've let me bleed to death on the freezing marble floor and only have to worry about the disposal of my body so as not to cast any suspicion on the Roarke family.

As Ben thrust into me, I felt desire flow throughout my entire body. Every nerve seemed alive and on fire, I desperately wanted to come but at the same time, I never wanted it to end. Ben's breathing was laboured and heavy and I knew his orgasm was imminent. I felt his lips against my ear as he murmured my name along with words of such deep passion, I felt the truth of them in my very soul. He wasn't lying, nor was he telling me things he felt I needed to hear, like a lot of men do when they are going to come.

I could tell by the tenseness of his muscles that he was holding himself back and afraid of hurting me. I silently vowed that when I was better, I'd show him that I was a woman, not a porcelain doll that would break at the slightest touch. I would tell him that if he took reasonable care and consideration in how he touched me, he could release the iron grip he now had on his mind and body and truly enjoy the experience of lovemaking as much as I did.

When my orgasm hit, I arched my back and moaned. Bright flashes of light glimmered behind my eyelids as wave after wave of pleasure rippled through my body. As soon as one ended, another began. Ben gritted his teeth together and groaned as his cock pumped white hot semen into me.

We lay together, our limbs entwined, for a long time and waited until our bodies cooled a bit before trying to move. In the darkness, I felt Ben touch my face. I kissed him without hesitation, tasting myself on his lips. He drew the covers over us and he fell asleep in my arms.


	8. Daddy Dearest

Daddy Dearest

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to anything associated with the Sin City franchise.

A/N: After a major re-write, I am re-posting this chapter. This chapter contains strong M/F adult material.

lll

"How would you like to go to the carnival?" Ben asked me not long after my release from the hospital. "I know you've been stuck inside for a long time. It would do you good to get out and tonight is the last night for it. You wanna go?"

I laughed and clapped my hands together. It had been so long since I'd been to one; the last time was with my parents a lifetime ago. "Are you kidding? I'd love to!"

We left in good time and rode nearly every ride. When we were inside the Haunted House ride, I cuddled up to Ben's hard body and pretended to be scared. Every so often, his hand would periodically caress my breast, making me very aroused. In return, I put my hand in his lap and using the very low lighting to my advantage, I pulled down the zipper of his pants. I wasted no time in sliding my hand inside his shorts until I was caressing him.

All of a sudden, the ride ground to a stop. The generator lights came on and flooded the area with a dim red light but even so, it was still deliciously dark enough for what I wanted to do. We were at the back of the ride and no one could see us. We could, however, see all those who were seated ahead of us. Ben and I weren't the only ones who took advantage of the unexpected blackout to engage in a quick grope and feel.

"It's a good thing the ride broke down when it did or you'd have a hell of a time trying to cover up that hard-on."

"I'm going to make you pay for that, you little cocktease," Ben whispered in my ear, tweaking my nipple hard enough to make me gasp. He trailed his lips across my cheek and neck before going lower. The area between my neck and shoulder was extremely sensitive and Ben knew this better than anyone. He took pleasure in alternately nipping and suckling my heated flesh with just enough pressure so I would have hickeys the next morning.

I moaned when I felt his hand skim over the crotch of my panties. I spread my legs wider to give him better access and he retaliated for my earlier tormenting of his groin by doing the same to me. Now _I_ was the one being teased to near-madness!

"You are being deliberately bad tonight, and where I come from, bad girls who tease men have to be punished. And I know just the way to do it too," Ben whispered in my ear. "As soon as we get home, I'm gonna put you over my knee and spank that delectable bottom of yours until you beg for mercy."

"What else are you going to do to me for being such a bad cocktease?"

"I'll tie you to the bed," he suggested with an evil twinkle in his eyes. "I know a few things about tying people up and doing what I want to them. And making them do what I want to _me_."

"I suppose once I'm tied up, I'll be completely helpless until you decide to let me go."

"_If _I decide to let you go," Ben corrected, his eyes gleaming. "And I won't do that until you do what I want."

"Such as?"

"I'm not tellin'," he said with a smirk. "You'll have to wait and see."

"Not even a hint?" I pouted.

"All right." Ben leaned over until his lips touched my ear before he whispered, "I'll take that clit of yours into my mouth and tease it until it's as hard and throbbing as I am right now. I'll nip and suckle and lick until you are screaming for mercy. But I will not show you any. You'll be begging me to let you come but I won't let you."

"You're pretty damn sure of yourself, aren't you?" I said, tossing my head.

"I _am_ sure of myself," Ben replied. "You're forgetting that I know _exactly_ what you like in bed. Besides, you won't be able to do anything about it because you'll be tied up, remember? And because you won't be able to get free, I'm gonna fuck you in every fun way there is. Every now and then, I'll make you take me in your mouth just to show you who is the boss."

My breathing was getting heavy as images of what he was talking about flashed through my head. As a result, my pussy was getting hotter by the minute as I listened to those wonderful ideas of his. Being dominated by Ben was turning me on to a degree I never imagined.

I could already see myself lying on the bed, my arms and legs spread wide as Ben tied them to the bedposts. Unable to move and unable to prevent Ben from doing whatever he wanted to my body. He would be able to touch, kiss and lick any part of me he desired. Being the incredibly talented lover that he was, I had no doubt Ben would have me screaming for him to let me climax. As I continued to think about it, I could feel the blood rushing to my clit and nipples, making me quiver with anticipation.

Ben chuckled as he stroked my flushed cheeks. "I'm going to keep you on the edge for a long, long time then I'm gonna…Aw, damn it. The power's back."

The lights came on and the cars chugged ahead slowly toward the exit. The two doors that led outside opened and the ride was over. I heard Ben zip up his pants and I smirked when he took off his coat and hung it over his arm so it covered his very obvious erection. I stood on my tiptoes and whispered in Ben's ear: "Let's blow this popsicle stand and get back to your place. The sooner the better."

"Why?"

"First, you are so hard that your zipper is about to split wide open. Second, because of what you said about tying me up and spanking me, I am very, very wet."

"Wet? How wet?"

"If I wasn't wearing panties right now, the grass would be drenched with something that isn't water."

"Show me," Ben said, his eyes dark with lust.

"Not here," I said. I looked around and after giving the area a good once-over, I grabbed his hand and led him to an empty, secluded part of the fairgrounds where a solitary picnic table was located. Because Ben was so tall, he sat on the seat and I stood in front of him. As soon as he was seated, my hand went into my panties. I smeared a copious amount of moisture onto my fingers and took my hand out, bringing it close enough to Ben's face so that he see that my fingers were glistening with my juices. His nostrils flared and he growled deep in his throat as he inhaled my scent.

He took my hand and slowly licked my fingers clean as if he were savouring the sweetest honey. "More," he growled hoarsely. "No, don't move. I'll get it for myself." Ben hitched up my skirt, took my buttocks in his hands and ground his face against me. He pushed aside the crotch of my panties so he could have unrestricted access to his goal.

"Damn, kid, you _are_ wet," Ben chuckled when he came up for air. Before I could answer, his tongue was between my legs again, sliding up and down my now-drenched slit. He gently inserted his middle finger inside of me, while his lips encircled my nub. I moaned loudly, not caring if anyone was nearby. My nails dug deep into the back of his neck as he brought me closer to ecstasy. When I came, I was dimly aware of my pussy walls clutching and grabbing around Ben's fingers. When it was over, my knees felt like rubber. Ben's arms were around me, steadying me and once my breath and equilibrium returned, I immediately went to my knees in front of him.

In less than a minute, Ben's dick was deep in my mouth. I was stroking his balls gently, to add to his pleasure. I didn't have the slightest objection to giving him a blowjob where we might be discovered at any moment. If anything, getting caught was extremely arousing. And if anyone came by, they would see a woman giving pleasure to the man that she loved—nothing more, nothing less.

"No, Sherry," Ben said, zipping himself up and adjusting his clothes. He wanted me to stop before the flicker of desire I awakened in him could become full-blown lust.

"Why'd you want me to stop?" I asked as Ben pulled me to my feet.

"I heard someone coming this way," Ben said. "But once we get to the car and out on the road, you can finish what you started..."

"But that'll be dangerous, won't it? I mean, how can you concentrate on driving when my mouth is around your cock?"

"I've done it before." Ben realized what he'd said and he bit his lip. "I'm sorry, kid; I shouldn't have said that..."

"That's okay, Ben," I said. I had to admit I was a little jealous, but I wasn't going to be angry with him about his slip of the tongue. "Before we met each other, you had girlfriends just as I had boyfriends. Besides, it'll be a challenge for me to see if I can be better than she was. Come on, let's get going. There's a four-poster bed at home with our names on it!"

Ben's lips curled up into a slow smile that was full sensual promises and sexual delights that I felt weak at the knees as I looked at him. Hand in hand, we started walking quickly to where his car was parked.

"Ah, so this is your new girlfriend, Ben? I have to say she's the cutest little thing. Very young, too."

We both turned around to see Senator Roarke standing there. I saw, as Ben did not, the way that the politician's eyes raked over me, as if he were undressing me with his eyes. As I turned away, I saw that the Senator's younger son was standing slightly behind his father. Roarke Junior smirked at me and I saw the flash of his Harvard ring on his right hand. The very ring that had left me unable to have children. The blood seemed to freeze in my veins and I felt faint.

"Yes, sir. Thank you sir," Ben replied, putting his arm through mine and he squeezed my hand reassuringly. Knowing he was there at my side gave me the strength to recover.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" The Senator's smile widened as he shifted his oily gaze to me again. I shook my head in disbelief when it struck me that he was going to stand there and pretend that he'd never met me before.

I dug my fingernails into Ben's arm but he never flinched or told me to stop. He knew how frightened I was, being next to the men who hurt me so badly. The trauma and the fear I had suffered still gave me nightmares. But I never told Ben about them.

Roarke started talking about everyday things, filling the awkward silence with inane pleasantries but I wasn't listening. All I knew was that I had to get away from that monster as soon as possible.

"Ben, I'm getting tired. Can I have the car keys? I want to lie down for a while."

"Not leaving on my account, are you?"

I was about to answer rudely but I stopped myself from saying what was in my heart. Despicable as the Senator was, he was still Ben's employer.

"Don't rush off, Ben, I wanted to discuss my itinerary for my trip to Seoul next month," Roarke said sharply when Ben turned to follow me.

"I'll be with you as soon as I can," Ben whispered as he handed me the keys. I stalked off without a backward glance and headed toward the parking lot. It was now late in the evening and I underestimated how far away the car was. The further I got from the neon lights, the harder it was to find the car among all the others that were parked nearby. After a few wrong turns and a lot of guesswork blended with sheer luck, I finally found it. I had just put the keys in the driver's side when I felt a hard hand clamp down on my shoulder.

"Hello, Sherry. Long time, no see."

I whirled around. That voice could only belong to the one man in the world I never wanted to see again: Tom. He stood in front of me, a police flashlight in his hand.

"How did you find me?" I frantically looked around for Ben but Tom deliberately shone the beam directly in my face. I was blinded.

"I'm a cop. We know how to find people who don't want to be found."

"I won't go with you! I _won't_!"

Tom chuckled. "You don't have a choice; you're not of legal age yet. According to the law, I'm still your legal guardian and you're going back where you belong."

"No! No! Let me go!" I raised my voice, trying to attract attention, but it was so dark, I couldn't see anyone around us.

"Go ahead and scream, no one will hear you," Tom sneered. I knew he was right; the noise of excited yelling from happy carnival goers was so loud, it wouldn't matter if I screamed or not. I tried to get out from Tom's grip, but he was too strong. "Still a fighter, eh? Once I get you somewhere alone where we won't be disturbed, I'm gonna beat it out of you and I'm gonna enjoy every minute of it. Make no mistake about that."

"I'll kill myself before I fucking let you touch me again, you bastard!"

"We'll see about that, won't we?" Tom said with a smirk. "Now show me what you've learned in that whorehouse and give your dear old stepfather a proper kiss."

Before I knew it, his lips were on mine and his tongue was inside my mouth. Without a moment's hesitation, I bit down hard. He yelped and pushed me away and wiped the blood from his mouth with his sleeve.

"Oh, I'm going to enjoy teaching you the meaning of respect, and there's no time like the present." He raised the hand that held the flashlight and hit me hard across the side of my face. I saw spots. Tom used my disorientation to his advantage by grabbing my forearm and slapping me with his free hand again and again until I stopped fighting.

"Anything wrong, Officer?" a voice asked.

I turned and saw a man in a smart business suit reflected by the flashlight's beam. A woman was with him—his wife. They were my only chance.

"Please…please, help me!" I begged.

"Shut up!" Tom snapped, twisting my arm again. I gasped from the sharp pain as it raced up to my shoulder but I obeyed. "Don't listen to her," Tom replied smoothly, showing the man his badge. "She's been trolling the fair grounds for business. She made the customers uncomfortable and the owner called me to get rid of her. I'm sure you understand."

I had to hand it to Tom—when he chose, he could charm the birds from the trees. I'm sure that's how he got my mother to fall in love with him; too bad she never knew about the monster that lurked behind his handsome face.

My Good Samaritan looked at me and curled his lip in disgust. "I certainly do. Whores like her should know better."

_Whores like me? _Who the hell did this guy think he was?I peered at him and then it came to me where I'd seen him before. He had been one of my customers!

The man's wife had been standing silently by his side but now spoke up. "Whores like you should be locked up," she sniffed indignantly, raking her gaze over me. "It's bad enough to sell yourself but to do so where families are trying to have fun? Flaunting your shame in the presence of children! Disgraceful! It's obvious that your mother was a bad influence on you. Probably drunk all the time, unable to raise you decently!"

I was so mad I could hardly see straight. "Well, if a wife would pay more attention to her husband than to her charities and fundraisers, then he wouldn't need to come to me for sex, would he?" I deliberately stared into the man's face but he wouldn't meet my eyes. I smirked when I saw him flush with embarrassment. He hadn't forgotten our times together either.

"Let's get going," the man muttered and he hustled his wife away before I could say anything.

"Have a nice day now, sir. Ma'am," Tom called out as he touched the brim of his policeman's cap and nodded as the man and his wife walked away.

I was never going to see Ben again; there was no way I could even say goodbye. Whenever I hesitated or slowed my steps, Tom tightened his grip.

"You're hurting me!"

"Good. You deserve it for trying to brain me with that lamp. I owe you for that and stealing my wallet from me the night you left, you ungrateful slut. And I'm gonna make you pay." I tried not to cringe as his hand groped my breast. "You've filled out a bit more, I see. I'm going to have a lot of fun in the next few hours discovering everything that's new about you. I'm sure you learned a few tricks on how to please a man." He shoved me against the car so that my back was facing him.

Tom groaned in pleasure as he ground his hips against me. I could feel his growing hard-on against my buttocks. Because of the darkness, all he had to do was bend me over the hood, flip up my skirt and rape me then and there and no one would ever know.

To my horror, Tom seemed to read my mind. With one hand, he grabbed me by the back of the neck and pushed me face down onto the car hood. I felt him fumbling with his pants. I knew I had to say something, anything, to distract him.

"You just wait until Ben finds out about this," I said, trying to sound brave. "Once he gets his hands on you, he's gonna rip you limb from limb. You'll be begging him to kill you." I was scared shitless at that moment and I hoped to God what I was saying was true.

Tom laughed. "You mean that big dumb fuck I saw you with tonight? The last time I saw him, he was yakking away with Senator Roarke and wasn't about to leave in a hurry. From what I hear, that boyfriend of yours is all brawn and no brain."

I froze when I heard Tom's zipper being pulled down and he edged forward.

"NO!" I yelled. I tried to move but with my stepfather's hand still on my neck, I couldn't get the leverage I needed to get away. I could, however, scream and I did. "Ben, I'm over here! Help me!"

Tom chuckled from behind me. "Go ahead, yell and scream for the big brute all you want. On a night as dark as this, he won't find you before I'm done."

I knew I had to keep my stepfather talking for as long as possible but pure unadulterated fear took over when I felt his hand reach down and with one hard yank, he ripped my panties off. He reached down and felt between my legs. I was still dripping from my orgasm and Tom misunderstood.

"Only a whore like you would get so wet at getting fucked on the hood of a car."

"I'm not wet because I want you, you dickhead, I'm wet because I'm having my period!" That wasn't true but Tom couldn't know that I was lying. If it is dark and a woman is wet, there is no way for a man to tell the difference between menstrual blood and sexual secretions by touch alone.

Tom uttered a sound of disgust and withdrew his hand, wiping it on my clothes. "Doesn't matter. A hole is a hole and you've got another one that I can use just as easily. Better yet, this will hurt a lot more too."

The brief flicker of hope I had about him changing his mind about raping me was gone. Instead, I only made matters worse. A _lot_ worse.

"Has you boyfriend ever done this to you? I know you give him blowjobs. I saw you going down on the loser earlier this evening."

"You're not half the man he is."

"Bigger doesn't mean better."

"It's always the men with small dicks who say that," I sneered. I knew I struck a nerve when Tom grabbed me by the hair and my chin was slammed onto the hood.

"Shut up! I'm not afraid of him."

"You will be before the night is through, dickhead. Get off her," snarled Ben, his deep gravelly voice was right behind us.

Tom was yanked back and the pressure of his iron grip on my neck was gone. I slid off the hood and onto the ground with a hard thump. As I lay on the cool grass trying to collect myself, I heard Ben and Tom exchange blows and the sound of a man's body hit the ground not far from me. I knew which of them was more likely to be knocked on his ass without having to look.

"Are you okay?" Ben asked, reaching down to give me a hand. I took it gratefully and stood up. I stepped out of my torn panties which were pooled on the ground by my feet.

"Let's get out of here. This place is too public for what I want to do to your dear Uncle Tom." Ben scanned the surrounding area with an experienced eye, trained to look for the slightest bit of trouble. "We're far enough from the general crowd but you never know. Now it's your turn to get a gun in the back, pal. Move. I ain't gonna ask you twice."

We walked until we got to where Tom's police cruiser was parked.

"Sherry, I want you to take my car and go to my place. Lock the door as soon as you get inside. Don't answer the phone."

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

"Tom and I are gonna go for a drive."

"Like hell we are! I'm not going anywhere with you!"

Ben jabbed his handgun under Tom's ribs. "You're gonna do exactly as you're told."

Tom must have heard something in Ben's tone for now he was getting scared. "I have to tell you some things about her. You have to listen to me!"

"I don't have to do anything just because you say so. I'm a big dumb fuck, remember? All brawn and no brain?"

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry for calling you that. Listen, I don't know what she's told you, but I know things that she _hasn't_."

"I've already told Ben everything you did to me," I snapped.

Tom got a crafty look in his eye. "Everything? I doubt that. I know there are _two_ things you might've forgotten to mention."

I felt a tightening in my gut. I knew that Tom was going to tell Ben about the times he made me climax. What would be Ben think about me when he heard that?

"Shaddap," Ben snarled, as he brought his gun down on Tom's head. Tom fell to the ground, unconscious.

"Get going, Sherry," Ben said as he leaned down and kissed me. "I'll be home as soon as I can."

"Be careful, Ben. Don't underestimate him, even for a second," I said. I got into Ben's car and drove away. I didn't have my driver's license, but I knew how to drive. I knew if I kept under the speed limit, drove carefully, kept to the less-travelled streets, the police wouldn't have any reason to stop me. As I turned the car onto the road, I looked in the rear-view mirror and when the interior light of the cruiser came on because of the open door, I saw Ben pick up Tom's body and shove him into the backseat.


	9. The Start of a New Life

The Start of a New Life

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to anything associated with the Sin City franchise.

lll

The clock struck ten, eleven, twelve. Then one a.m. Where was Ben and why wasn't he back yet? I was so desperate to know what was going on, I couldn't stop pacing the floor. Somewhere in the vast expanse of Sin City, the man I loved was with the man I hated and to make matters worse, both were first-rate marksmen.

_Oh God_, I prayed, _please let Ben be all right!_

I whirled around when I heard the sound of keys opening the door. No sooner had Ben closed the door behind him did I throw myself into his arms. I could not speak; I was too busy savouring his body against mine and hugged him harder. I heard him wince.

"Ow! Easy there, kiddo!"

My fingers flew over him as I looked Ben over for signs of injuries. And there were more than a few although they seemed to be superficial—cuts, bruises and strange-looking marks on his hands. "Did I hurt you?" I asked.

"Nah, it'll take more than a few cuts and scrapes to keep me down."

He'd gone through hell tonight and it was all my fault. I started to cry.

Ben put what he had been holding on the hall table and held me close. "See? I'm all right. There's no need to cry." He wiped the tears from my face. "There, that's better. Let me have a bath and I'll tell you what happened."

I watched him go into the bathroom and close the door. Shortly after, I heard the water running. As I turned, I saw a flicker of light from the corner of my eye and I took a closer look. Ben had put a flashlight on the table. It had been a while since I saw one like it but I knew immediately what it was: a standard police-issue flashlight.

My father had carried one when he was on the force and it had his name and badge number on the side. He told me that police-issue flashlights were heavier than the usual household ones; they were made so that they could become weapons if the need arose. I hefted this one in my hand; with enough force, it would be the perfect weapon for bashing someone's skull in.

I turned it over and engraved into the side were the words:

_Property of the Granite Falls Police Department._

_Issued to: Tom Dekker, ID #05251977_

The casing was bloodied and dented and as I ran my thumb over the light, I found that the blood was still sticky and there were a few strands of hair attached to the clots. Since Ben had a brush cut, the blood and hair wasn't his: it could only have come from Tom. I took the flashlight to the kitchen and hid it under the sink, burying it under a pile of rags and cleaning items. I knew that Ben was done in the bathroom because the sound of running water stopped. Ben had a towel wrapped around his hips and he went into the bedroom for a minute to put some pants on. Ordinarily, seeing him undressed would turn my knees to water but I was too upset to be aroused.

Ben came back; he'd gone to the bedroom to put on another pair of pants. He sat down heavily beside me. "I don't think I've ever walked so far in my goddamn life. Get me some bourbon and a glass, will you?"

I did as he wanted, wasting as little time doing it as possible. I refrained from asking him any questions until he'd gulped down three shots of the bourbon. After the third glass, he leaned back against the arm of the sofa and sighed from exhaustion.

"After I left you, I drove out to the most private and remote place I could think of—the lake. As I expected, the moment he saw where I'd taken him, he started begging for his life. Started telling me all kinds of things..."

_He knew! He knew that Tom had been the first man to make me climax. I'd kept it from him, hoping that he'd never find out…_I swallowed. "Ben, please try to understand why I didn't tell you—"

"It doesn't matter now."

"I'm sorry…"

"Me too. Aw, c'mon kid, do you think I would ever blame or judge you?"

"I wasn't sure….I thought that if I told you about him touching me and that I liked it, you wouldn't look at me the same way anymore. I thought you'd think I was nothing but a slut."

"Tom had been married to your Ma for years. He knew exactly how to turn on a woman before he came after you. When he did, it was at a time when your body was developing and growing, filling you with a woman's needs. Your responding to his touch was perfectly natural. I don't blame you for that."

"You don't?"

"Hell, no. I only wish you felt you could have trusted me but…that's all over now. He'll never bother you again. When it was over, I walked back into town. It took me two hours just to reach Rich's place. I told him what I wanted to do and he agreed to help me out. We drove to Momma's to get everything squared away nice and legal. She tried to put us off but having cash in hand works the best when it comes to people like her."

I didn't have the slightest idea what he was talking about but I didn't interrupt him.

He reached into the back pocket of his pants and pulled out two pieces of paper and handed one to me. My mouth dropped open when I understood what I was reading and the implications it represented. It was my contract and above Momma's signature at the bottom was the words _Paid in Full._

"Rich says it will hold up in any court in the country. You're a free woman, Sherry. Your life is your own now."

"You mean it? I'm _free_?"

"Free and clear and you don't owe anyone a dime. What time is it?"

I looked at the clock. "Nearly two in the morning. Why?"

Ben was grinning from ear to ear. "You are fifteen years old today."

"Big deal." Because of all the evening's excitement, I had completely forgotten.

"It _is_ a big deal, Sherry, unless you don't want it to be. Getting that contract verified wasn't the only thing I did with Rich tonight--I got him to do something else."

Ben hesitated for a long time before giving me the second piece of paper. I had to read it through twice before it sunk in. It was a marriage licence. I looked into Ben's eyes; they were filled with such hope, I was overwhelmed at the love I saw in them.

"A girl is old enough to get married at fifteen in this state but I don't want you to say yes because you feel you have to repay me for taking care of Tom…"

"You want to marry me?"

"After you were left lying on the floor of the Senator's house, I carried you to the bathroom and held you in my arms. I saw you looking at me as I cleaned you up. I felt something deep inside but I didn't know what it was. I thought it was because I felt sorry for you--you were so small and innocent and so alone. You had no one who would protect you from the big bad world and all the big bad men in it.

"When you kissed me in your room, I was over the moon. But you were vulnerable and I thought you only kissed me because you were grateful for what I did. When we had our date, I knew I was in love with you. But I was sure there was no way you could feel the same way about me. I mean, you were so young and I was—_am_--old enough to be your father. I tried hard, _really_ hard, to fight what I was feeling.

"I reckoned that I'd get over you if I didn't see you but it was useless. Not seeing you only made me feel worse. Every time Sable filled me in on where and when you were hired out, it was like a knife in my heart. Knowing other men were touching you and fucking you nearly drove me crazy. When she told me that you were seeing Richard on a regular basis, I felt I had to do something before you got killed. He was associated with the most dangerous people in Sin City. Then I heard you two talking about marriage outside his room and I was so jealous when you said that you loved him. I waited until his bodyguards left and, well, you know the rest. So whaddaya say?"

I nodded my head. I was crying and smiling and laughing at the same time. I couldn't speak—I was too overwhelmed. Ben wanted me to marry him! But…there was a problem. A big one. And perhaps to a proud man like Ben, it might be the biggest obstacle for us getting married.

"What if we go out somewhere and a man recognizes me?"

Ben shrugged, the muscles in his shoulders rippled in the light. "So what? If anybody gives you a hard time, I'll knock his teeth down his throat."

I smiled as I remembered the voice of my mother saying the same thing to me as I hovered between life and death in the hospital. "But I can't give you children, Ben."

"Aw, that's okay. An ugly mug like me shouldn't be a dad anyway. Besides, there are lotsa kids out there who need a good home. We can adopt some and give them a better start than what I had."

"And what kind of a start did you have?" I asked softly. He'd never told me about his childhood and judging from the look on his face now, it hadn't been easy.

"After my parents died, I got shuffled around from relative to relative. Some were okay to live with but most were not. When I was really young, I got beaten a lot—with a belt or a wooden spoon, whatever was handy--until I started growing and learned how to fight back. Then no one laid a hand on me. As punishment, I was never fed enough…and I was always hungry. Once I was fourteen, I left for good. No one was sorry to see me go."

I held his hand in mine and listened. Underfed and unloved, his life had been worse than mine.

"The only person I could count on was myself. I lived on the streets for a while, not knowing where my next meal was coming from, sometimes going without food for days at a time. After a while, I got in with some kids who were also tossed out by their families for one reason or another. We formed our own gang. We had a few girls in it too—some that went through the same shit you did with Tom and decided they were better off on the streets. We all looked out for one another. We were a family."

Ben raised the bourbon bottle to his lips and drank deeply, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He turned and looked at me. "You ever see the movie _Angels with Dirty Faces?_"

"Sure I did. I've seen just about every Cagney movie ever made but I like his gangster films the best. Why?"

"Remember there was a group of boys in that movie who had their hideout in a cellar boiler room? Well, that was like me and my gang, only we didn't have homes like those kids—we lived on the streets."

"How did you survive? Where did you live?"

"In the summer it was easy—we'd camp out in the park and if it was a clear night, we'd look up into the sky and count the stars and tell each other our dreams for the future. But the wintertime, it was a different story. We stayed warm by huddling together in abandoned buildings. When it was really cold, we'd risk lighting a fire. We ate whatever food we could scrounge up from dumpsters. But sometimes, there wasn't any, so we'd chase after rats and pigeons. If you're hungry enough, you'll eat anything. When we needed clothes, we snitched 'em from laundromats and clotheslines when people weren't looking."

The nearest thing to being homeless that I experienced was sleeping on the bus terminal floor for a few hours. I couldn't imagine what Ben had gone through--living for years on the streets, eating garbage and vermin. I shuddered.

I really didn't want to hear any more but I sensed that this was something Ben needed to get off his chest. Ben looked sad and my heart ached for him.

"It wasn't so bad for us older kids—we'd been used to being hungry but the little ones…they suffered. We did the best we could but sometimes it wasn't enough. The winter of '31 was the worst. It was the beginning of the Depression. No one had food for their own families, let alone something to spare for us. It got so bad, even the rats were starving. When that happens, they lose their fear of humans. As food became harder to come by, the rats came closer. One night, one of the littlest guys got bit by one but he didn't tell anyone. The bite got infected. We took him to a friend of a friend who knew something about medicine. He told us what drug he needed but we couldn't afford it."

Ben's breath caught in his throat and I put my arms around his neck. He cried against me. His big heart was still mourning the loss of a fellow street kid more than twenty-five years ago. I wiped away the tears that slid down his cheeks.

"Poor little guy had a fever. He was sweating bullets but he was always cold. Me and Gert would lie on either side of him, trying to keep him warm with the heat of our bodies. It didn't do no good. He was like that for two days. Finally, Gert left and that night she came back real late but she had the cash. We bought the stuff he needed but it was too late."

"Did she tell you where she got the money?"

"Yeah," Ben said his expression hardening. "I wormed it out of her. She'd sold herself to every man who would pay her a couple of bucks and she didn't stop until she had all the money. I don't know how many men she fucked, but it must have been a lot because she couldn't sit down. I was so mad at her, I couldn't see straight. I mean, she came to live with us in the first place 'cuz she was wanted to feel safe again and what does she do? She goes out and…"

I put my hand on his arm. "She did what she thought was best."

"I know. Gert told me that she'd get on her back as many times as she needed to if it meant that another kid in our gang didn't have to die because they didn't have their medicine. From that time on, if there was something we needed that no one could steal, she'd get dressed up in her best clothes and go out at night. We tried to stop her but she wouldn't listen. She'd come home and there would be money to buy some food. Sometimes the guys she'd slept with roughed her up. We found out who they were and me and a few of the bigger boys would find 'em and beat them up for what they did to her."

"Did you go to school?"

"Nah. We taught each other. The kids who were good at math taught the others and so on. We all learned to read and write, though. I was the biggest of the bunch and I was always good with my hands so I taught the smaller ones how to defend themselves."

Ben had a wistful look on his face. "Our gang fought together, lived together. And loved together. Damn, sometimes I really miss those days." He took another hard swallow of liquor.

I knew he wasn't talking about being hungry or homeless; he was talking about the love and sense of belonging he'd had during the hard years of his early life.

"What happened to them?"

"I see some of 'em from time to time. Remember Hardigan? He was a member of our gang. When he was old enough, he joined the Army and afterwards, he became a cop."

"What about the girls?"

Ben grinned. "Interested in my other girlfriends, huh? Well, some got married and some I just lost contact with. Gert was the nurse who took care of you at the hospital. You're _my_ girl now, kid. You nodded yes and I'm holding to you to that, you know."

"I know," I whispered, snuggling closer against my future husband and vowed that he would never feel cold or hungry or unloved again. We lay together on the sofa, not saying a word, just happy to be in each other's arms. I was free and I was going to become a wife--Ben's wife! But, however much I tried, I couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen.

Ben interrupted my thoughts. "So, when would you like to tie the knot?"

"Ask me that tomorrow, I'm too busy now." If I was going to be a wife and take care of my man, this was as good a time as any to start. I told him not to move, then I got up and went to the bathroom and retrieved the first-aid kit.

I dabbed alcohol then iodine on his knuckles, brushing aside Ben's protests that I was killing him. As I tended to him, I noticed he had more injuries than just cuts and bruises. There were deep, long scratches on his arms, from the elbows down to the wrists and the marks on his hands that puzzled me earlier were bites. From a human mouth.

"He couldn't even die like a man," Ben said scornfully as I swabbed the marks Tom's teeth had made on his knuckles. "I could have shot him but I didn't. I had both our guns and he was yelling that I wasn't playing fair. Ouch, woman! Go easy with the alcohol, will you? Anyway, I threw the guns away and we went after each other with our fists.

"I got too cocky and he was faster and smarter than me. It wasn't long before I was on the ground and he stood over me. Instead of finishing me off while he had the advantage, he opened his big mouth and started bragging. He said that every time I fucked you, I was only having his sloppy seconds. He said he'd let me live long enough to watch as he raped you over and over. The thought of him touching you again gave me the strength I needed to beat him.

"Soon he was the one on the ground. He was yelling that he didn't come to Sin City alone and that if some guy didn't hear from him, he would call the cops. The last thing he said to me was that he would have the last laugh, even if he had to crawl from the pits of Hell to do it. I dragged his ass to the car and handcuffed him to the steering wheel—that's when he bit me. I put the car in neutral and pushed it into the lake."

In spite of myself, I shivered as I imagined what Uncle Tom's last moments had been like: Watching as the cold black water filled the car, knowing there was no escape, knowing you were going to die…

"What if Tom was _not_ lying? What if there _was_ someone out there waiting for him to call back? Dear God, what if that man knew you were the last person to see Tom alive?" Suddenly I felt very, very afraid.

"He didn't come here with someone. I'll bet my life on it."

"How can you be so sure?"

"No one followed me from the carnival; I kept checking the rear-view mirror just to be sure but I never saw nobody behind us. Not once."

Just as I began to feel hope that the nightmare was behind me once and for all, it hit me. "But Tom had a key to the cuffs! He could've gotten free!"

Ben shushed me by putting his finger over my lips. "I watched the car sink and I waited for at least ten minutes but he never came out. He's gone, Sherry. The bastard's gone for good."

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Little did I know that from the depths of his watery grave, my stepfather _would_ have the last laugh and in the end, Ben would pay for his crime with his life.


	10. Bedroom Games

Chapter 10: The Morning After

Chapter 10: The Morning After

A/N: Sorry for the long time between updates—to be honest, I had all but abandoned this story. This chapter is dedicated to wannabanauthor whose praise and review encouraged me to continue.

This chapter contains strong M/F and oral content.

lll

After a while, Ben stretched and yawned so widely that his jaw cracked. "Man, it's been a hell of a night."

I smiled and got up, intending on going to bed.

"And just where do you think you're goin'?" Ben asked, lazily sipping the last dregs of his bourbon.

"To bed. It's late. Or early, depending how you look at it."

"Have you forgotten something?" My fiancé drawled. There was a slow, sexy smile on his face and my knees nearly buckled. He was clearly up to something.

"What do you mean?" I said, giving every impression of innocence. By now, I knew that when Ben smiled like that, he had something sexual on his mind.

"I made a promise to you tonight. In the funhouse. _Now_ do you remember?"

I certainly did. He had promised to fuck me in every fun way there was. "But it's so late," I said coyly. "Can't it wait until morning?"

"It _is_ morning, and no, I can't wait. Or should I say, I won't wait. You had your fun. Now it's time for mine." With no effort whatsoever, he picked me up and flung me over his shoulder. I had visions of Neanderthal cavemen from long ago doing this to women they wanted to fuck. It looked like it was my turn.

In less time than I thought possible, we were in the bedroom. Ben kicked the door shut behind him. He laid me on the bed and leaned over me. I giggled. "Please be gentle with me."

"Not tonight," Ben growled. I gasped at the brazen note of lust in his voice but I wasn't the least bit afraid. I knew in my heart that Ben would never consciously hurt me. Instead, I had been hoping for this: that he would take me like a man who can't control his passions to possess the woman he loves. In all our times together, Ben had always holding himself back for fear of hurting me. Tonight, he would throw off the imaginary shackles of restraint he had imposed upon himself and fuck me into the mattress.

I could feel the heat already pooling between my legs at the thought.

The room was dark and I couldn't see what he was doing but I could hear him rummaging about in a drawer. A chuckle and a whispered "got it!" told me that he'd found what he was looking for.

"What are you doing--oh!" I gasped as I felt him take my wrists in his hand and stretch it out over my head, securing them to the headboard. I tried not to laugh as I figured out that he was carrying his threat of tying me to the bed. After he was done with my hands, he moved down the bed and tied one ankle to the bedpost. Ben repeated the process until my legs were strung up between the bedposts. I was completely helpless. I tested the strength of his bonds but they did not give.

"You're in for it now," he whispered.

I couldn't help but laugh. "There is one problem with your evil plan, sir," I said. "I'm still dressed."

"Not for long," came the response. He filled his fist with the fabric of my blouse and with one movement, ripped it off me.

"Hey! I need those clothes!"

"Not tonight you won't. Besides, I'll buy you some tomorrow."

There was a sharp tearing of the cloth and when the night air touched my skin, I felt goosebumps race across my flesh. However, ripping my skirt wasn't as easy as he thought it would be. Growling in frustration, Ben simply hitched it above my hips and I swore I heard him chuckle when he ripped my soaked panties off. He touched my cunt, smearing his fingers in my juices. I could hear him lick his fingers.

"Nope. Not yet. Still a ways to go before you're done." I wasn't sure if I was offended at him comparing me to a choice cut of meat that wasn't fully cooked to his liking. "You see, Sherry," Ben said as he continued to stroke my slit, "when you get wet, and I mean _really_ wet, your juices are as sweet as honey."

"But I am wet!"

"Yeah you are, but not enough for my purpose."

All kinds of sensual ideas flashed across my active brain: what was he going to do to me? How wet did I have to be before he'd take action?

Desire raced across my body in tremors of anticipation. It was aggravating, lying there in the pitch-blackness, unable to see what he was up to. All I could go on was by what I heard.

I felt the heat of his mouth surround my fingers and I trembled. He suckled my fingers as if each one were a delectable morsel he could not get enough of. I could feel him raise his mouth over my wrist and he began to kiss my arm, working his way down.

I whimpered as I felt tiny sparks of desire race across my skin as he nibbled my shoulder. My breathing was faster now and with a growl, Ben bit down on the sensitive area between my neck and shoulder. I writhed, desperately trying to arch my body against his but I couldn't move very far. The ties that bound me bit into my wrists and ankles but I didn't care.

"Please, oh God, please…" I was ashamed at the pleading note in my voice. I could feel my nipples tighten and tingle. I could feel the scorching heat of his mouth over every inch of my breasts except my nipples. I tried arching my back and moving my body so that his mouth was close to them, but he chuckled at my efforts.

"Please _what_?"

"Suckle me!"

"And what do I get if I do?" He was in complete control of the situation and we both knew it. But I knew what men liked the most in bed--or out of it.

"I'll deep-throat you," I said. If he could tease me to near insanity with his tongue, I could do the same with words. "I'll take your balls in my mouth and nibble on them. Then I slowly will lick your cock from the base to the tip like it was a lollipop. After I'm done tasting you, I'll—"

"Less talk, more action!" Ben growled. It was too dark for Ben to see my smug smirk. Score one for me, I thought. I could hear him unzip his fly and remove his pants before he moved to the head of the bed.

With a knee on either side of my head, he positioned himself over me. I did all I promised and then some—when I added suction to draw the pre-cum from the tip, he started to move faster and deeper inside of my mouth. He was fucking my face in every sense of the word. It was only by relaxing my throat completely that I was able to take him all the way inside. His breathing was harsh and ragged and I could tell he was close to coming. And coming in my mouth was _not_ part of his plans.

He withdrew from the bed and even though I couldn't see him, I knew Ben was trying to get his breath back. I whimpered when I felt him take my nipple into his mouth. I tried to suppress a shriek of pleasure when he used his teeth by grating them ever so slightly across my peak. It wasn't painful—I wanted more.

I was so wet by now, I was sure that I was soaking the mattress.

As if Ben could read my mind, he put his hand between my legs, and lazily ran his fingers down the length of my now-soaked slit. I tried to move against his hand but Ben continued to touch me with only his fingertips. I moaned when he put one then two of his fingers inside me. He curled them upward until he was stroking my g-spot.

"Don't do this to me. Let me come!" I was a little angry with myself for reacting exactly the way he wanted but I didn't care. All that mattered was what was happening between my legs. Any coherent thought left my head when he took my clit in his mouth and began suckling it. As he did with my nipple, he scraped his stubbly chin across the sensitive bud. It wasn't painful; if I had to describe what I was feeling, I would have said it was pleasurable pain.

I strained to get free of my bonds but no matter what I did, nothing worked. Ben had been telling the truth when he said he knew a thing or two about tying people up. Damn him! What I wanted to do more than anything was clamp my legs around his head so he couldn't move and I could finally climax.

But neither happened. Ben simply would not touch or lick me hard or long enough for me to come.

He positioned his body between my legs. I hissed sharply when I felt his body on mine and his cock was buried to the hilt inside of me. Ben deepdicked me until I was sure my butt was going to hit the floor through the mattress. His pace was horribly slow and I could feel lust begin to grow inside me. Even though I couldn't move my hips very far, I began to thrust against him. When he pulled his cock out of me as suddenly as he had entered, I whined in frustration.

"I'm just getting started, kiddo. I'm gonna make you really beg for it."

And he did. For what seemed like hours, he licked, nibbled, and suckled my clit, nipples, and neck until I thought I was going to go mad. And the more I begged and pleaded to be allowed to come, Ben only intensified his efforts to drive me insane by not allowing it. I knew he was savouring every moment of my torment.

"Now, you're finally ready." Ben said. He moved upward and drew me closer to his face. With a loud slurping sound, he licked me clean. "Just the way I like it. You are so sweet. Just like honey…" He growled and latched onto my clit. After so much teasing and tormenting, it didn't take me long to come.

Not caring about anything, I screamed and my body bucked wildly as wave after wave of almost unbearable pleasure flooded my body. Ben tightened his grip on my hips and held on for the ride.

I was extremely sensitive after my climax. I hissed and tensed as he continued to suckle at my clit but he was so gentle, I felt no discomfort. I came back down to earth slowly.

As soon as I had regained my breath, Ben fucked me hard; so hard in fact, that I thought my head was going to break through the headboard with each thrust. Grunting and groaning on top of me, Ben took me like an animal consumed by the overpowering desire to mate.

His thrusts become more erratic and forceful until he groaned, his entire body shuddering as his hot seed spewed inside my cunt, filling me.

As soon as he untied me, I rubbed at my wrists and ankles which had gone numb. I wiggled out of my skirt and tossed it on the floor. I flopped back down on the bed, encased in the heavenly protection of my fiancé's strong arms.

We slept until nearly dawn and then made love again.

It was almost as intense as the first time and this time, I wasn't tied up. I wrapped my legs around his waist. He thrust into me, hard and fast and I shrieked when I came. I dug my nails into Ben's back, clawing at him like an out-of-control wildcat. As soon as one orgasm hit me, another one enveloped my body until I thought I had died and gone to heaven.

My body was pleasantly numb and still trying to collect my breath, I reached out for the warmth of Ben's body. I reached up to touch his face. "That was…incredible."

"And just think, we have the rest of our lives to improve on it."

I was about to answer when I heard a pounding on the apartment door.

"Aw, who the hell could that be at this goddamn hour?" Ben snapped.

A rush of gut-wrenching fear twisted at my insides. All kinds of thoughts went through my head and all of them were bad: The cops had found my Uncle Tom. They were at the door, coming to take Ben away. I would never see him again.

"No!" I screamed, clutching frantically at his arms. "What are we going to do?"

Ben hugged me. "I told ya last night, I took care of him." By the light of the rising sun, I watched with apprehension as Ben began to dress. He tucked his gun into the back of his pants. He squared his broad shoulders and went to answer the door. I couldn't sit in bed and do nothing. I grabbed a sheet to cover myself and stole to the living room.

It wasn't the police at the door, it was Richard. Relief and exhaustion made me weak at the knees. Everything was fine. But before I could go and greet Richard, I had to get dressed.

I grumbled to myself as I picked up the remains of my blouse. Goddamn it, what the hell was I going to wear now? It's not like I had a whole closet full of clothes at the apartment. After carefully inspecting my skirt, I decided it was still salvageable. Wearing the blouse, however, was out of the question. I decided to wear one of Ben's shirts. Until I picked the garments up, I didn't realize that Ben had ripped my brassiere and panties. Now I found myself in the uncomfortable dilemma of not being able to wear anything under my clothes. I hoped no one would notice.

"There she is!" Richard's hearty voice boomed out when I made my appearance in the living room. Before I knew what was happening, Richard had taken me in his arms and was giving me a bear hug. He looked at me with a glint in his eyes when he discovered I wasn't wearing underwear.

"Don't ask," I muttered and tried not to smile when Richard winked at me.

"Hey, break it up you two!" Ben scolded playfully. "Besides, she belongs to me now, so take care where you put those hands of yours, Rich!"

Richard looked down at me. "When he came over to my place last night, the big oaf told me what he was planning. What answer did you give? Are you going to make an honest man out of that reprobate, or what?"

I grinned from ear to ear. "I said yes, Richard. I'm going to marry him."

Richard took my left hand in his and looked down at the bare third finger. "What? No ring? Ben, you'd better get one before the girl comes to her senses! C'mon, let's get a move on, the day's wasting!"

lll

The day passed in a whirlwind of shopping and dining. I made Ben pay dearly for ripping my clothes from the night before. It got to the point where I was sure all of my new clothes would take up the entire bedroom in the apartment. Not to mention the shoes, handbags, and new furniture! Whatever I wanted, I got.

When we got to the lingerie shop, I shooed both men away but not before taking a wad of bills from Ben. "What I get in here is none of your business," I stated, wagging my finger at my future husband. I took my time and when I finally came out, they were waiting for me.

"Will I get to see what you bought?" he asked, a leer twisting his face as he poked inside the bag.

"If you behave yourself, you might," I said, slapping his hand away from the lacy negligees and other assorted items I bought. "Then again, you might not."

"You didn't seem to mind me not behaving this morning." He licked his lips in a suggestive manner.

I could feel a hot blush rise up from my neck. Richard was watching both of us with a raised eyebrow. I wasn't going to fill him in on what Ben had done to me but something told me that Richard had had an idea.

lll

Ben and I were yawning when we got back to his—_our_--apartment. It had been a long day. Since we didn't get a lot of sleep the night before, we were too tired to do anything other than cuddle in bed.

"I know we didn't get a ring for you today. That's because I already had one in mind." Ben opened a drawer to the nightstand and took out a small black velvet box. Shyly, he opened it. Inside was a gold wedding band. It was plain as plain can be, but I loved it.

"This belonged to my mom. Before she died, she gave it to my dad to give to me when I got married. I know it's not much to look at, but I hope you like it." Ben put the ring on the third finger of my left hand.

It was perfect.


	11. Premonition

Premonition

Disclaimer: I don't own anything associated with the Sin City franchise. This story has nothing to do with the plot/backstory of the movie or the novels.

lll

"So kiddo," Ben said, holding my hand, "when should we get married?"

"The sooner the better," I replied. I snuggled deeper into Ben's embrace and I listened to the steady beat of his heart under my ear. I was tired and wanted to fall asleep but I knew that Ben was waiting for an answer. "I don't really know. I was thinking of going back to school." I was worried about bringing up the subject.

Now that I was going to be Ben's wife in the very near future, I was afraid that he might be one of those men who expected their wives to cook and clean for them and when the time came, to be a mother to his children. Because of my injuries, that wasn't likely to happen but I remembered my mother's words and dared to dream anyway. I looked forward to being married to Ben but a part of me wanted more for my life than being a housewife. I was hoping I would be able to finish high school at least. However, it seemed that I was underestimating Ben yet again.

"I think that's a very good idea, Sherry. A girl should get all the education she can."

"I've always wanted to become a nurse."

"Why settle for being a nurse? You could be a doctor, you know."

The idea of becoming a doctor was frightening but intriguing.

"Really?"

I felt Ben's body move as he shrugged in the dark. "Why not? God knows you've got the brains. But that is years away. I'm more concerned with our present."

"How about a Christmas wedding?" The weather was turning colder as fall approached and Christmas was always the best time of year when my parents were alive. Both of them were gone but I would have someone to share the holidays with for the rest of my life—my husband.

"Sounds good to me, honey." Ben's voice was drowsy and I smiled as I felt him drift off to sleep. Even though I was as tired as he was, my mind was busy; full of plans for my wedding and our honeymoon. I was sure that Richard would not mind giving me away but it was still awkward to think about. Not too many brides were given away by men who had paid to fuck them. I giggled at the thought. I resolved that Sable would be my maid of honour. She was the closest thing I had to a friend in this town. While it was true that she got me hooked on drugs, I could not forget that hers was the first friendly face I saw after waking up in the hospital.

The day after Ben gave me his mother's ring, he received word that Senator Roarke's planned trip to Korea had been rescheduled; the date was bumped up by two weeks. There was growing social unrest brewing in the newly divided country, ripped apart by war into North and South. His aides tried to convince him to postpone the trip but Roarke was a man who listened to no one. He was the owner of a several very large corporations that were based in the Far East, one of them in Seoul. With the country in such an unstable state, Roarke decided to cut his losses and sell out, rather than risk losing everything. To make sure that the sale went smoothly, he wanted to be there in person.

Because Ben was his primary bodyguard, that meant he had to be there as well. I bit my lip when Ben told me the news. I didn't want him to go; I had seen enough news reports to know that Korea was still a dangerous place, even though the war was over. I did not burden him with what was probably an overreaction on my part. He had enough on his mind; planning and organizing the security arrangements for any trip the Senator made, took a lot of work on Ben's part. He had to plan everything--from where the Senator would stay all the way down to finding the youngest, most appealing whores for him to fuck. It was a well-known fact that Roarke Senior had an appetite for sex that would make men half his age green with envy.

However, I did not have time to voice my misgivings—I was too busy getting ready to go back to school. The thought of being able to be a kid again was frightening. I had gone through more adult things before I reached the age of fifteen than many women do in a lifetime. But my experiences weren't all bad. Out of the worst came the best—because of the gang rape by all of the Roarke men, I was now Ben's fiancée.

As I watched and listened to Ben's plans, I began to feel nervous. Once Ben was out of the country, how could I be sure that I would be safe? During a calm moment after making love one night, I broached my concerns.

"Don't worry, Sherry, I've already thought of that. I want you to take Matilda."

"You want me to have your gun? Won't you need it?"

"I can always get another one."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure I'm sure. You know how to use a gun by now, don't you?"

It was true. Ben had taken me back to the Basin City Gun Club several times. While I would never be as good a shot as he was, I was getting better at aiming. I could actually hit the target now instead of the walls or ceiling.

"But having a gun here or not, I'm still going to be alone. It's going to be a long two weeks without you." I trailed my fingernails slowly down Ben's chest towards the drawstring waistband of his pyjamas. I felt Ben take my hands away and hold them in his own.

"Let me be serious for a minute. Listen Sherry, I've been thinkin' and I wanted to ask your opinion about something. What would you say if after this trip, I didn't work for the Senator no more?"

If Ben quit Roarke's service, I wouldn't have to worry about bumping into him or his sons when we went out. "But you've worked for the Roarke family for years. Why do you want to quit all of a sudden?"

"I've been talking to Richard and I think I could do better working for his boss. He pays a lot more and you wouldn't have to worry about seeing Roarke or his boys any more. I didn't miss how they looked at you at the carnival. I know how scared you were."

It was true. I was still afraid of them.

Ben's voice was gentle. "And I know how afraid of them you still are."

"How the hell--?"

"You have nightmares, Sherry. I can't count how many times I've heard you cry in your sleep. I hold you in my arms and comfort you until you feel safe enough to fall asleep."

I couldn't bear to tell him that my nightmares had nothing to do with the Roarke men and what they did to me. No, my dreams were filled with something else. Something that was far worse than any gang rape. But Ben would never imagine what horrors plagued my dreams at night and I would never tell him. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to wake you…"

Ben's finger across my lips hushed me. "It's okay, kid. Looking after you, even when you're sleeping, is my job now. And while we're on the subject, I've even seen you look around when we're out somewhere, expecting to see those bastards again."

Again, Ben was mistaken. While it was true that he did catch me looking over my shoulder, it was not because I was afraid of seeing the Senator. My greatest fear was the police, coming to take Ben away for the murder of my stepfather. Despite his assurances that no one had followed him that night, I was still afraid. "That's what I get for going out with a bodyguard," I good-naturedly grumbled, trying to change the subject. "You see everything."

"Damn straight, girl. I spot stuff other people would miss. You can't hide anything from me."

"Damn. Looks like I'm screwed, doesn't it?"

"Yup."

"You are the one who'd be working for that guy, not me. But something tells me you've already made up your mind."

"If it affects you, then you have the right to have a say in it, too. But in answer to your question, yeah, I have made up my mind. I just wanted to run it by you first."

"Whatever makes you happy makes me happy," I said.

"Never mind that," Ben said. Because it was dark, I could hear the anger in his voice. "What do you _really_ think?"

As much as I hated and feared the Senator, he was a saint compared to the fat Italian known as Don Battaglio. I had heard a few things from my customers from time to time about the man. I had never met him yet and I wasn't sure I wanted to. Like Roarke, he was ruthless and brutal when he was after something. I took a deep breath and told Ben of all of my misgivings. It was a long time before he replied and admitted that the same things that bothered me bothered him as well.

"I'm just not sure you should work for the Mob, Ben. I've heard stories about the Don. Bad ones."

"Yeah, me too. I just don't know what to do, Sher."

"There's no rush to make up your mind, is there? Go to Korea with the Senator and when you get back, we can talk about it some more."

"Would you like me to bring you something?" I heard the teasing quality in Ben's voice and knew that he had relaxed.

"You'd better!" I warned.

lll

The next few days were busy ones for me; Ben had to stay by the phone and wait for the Senator's next call—which was at least twice an hour. I spent a lot of time picking out his clothes and getting them ready. I carefully pressed and ironed his shirts and made several trips to the dry cleaners. I packed everything with great care, taking pride in my efforts. No one, especially Roarke, would be able to say that Ben's barely legal-age fiancée, couldn't take proper care of him!

At the airport the next day, Ben enveloped me in a bear hug that took my breath away. I flinched when I felt the bulge of his gun and holster beneath his right arm. Even though my dad had been a cop, I'd never been comfortable around guns. Guns were made for one reason and one reason only. To kill people. And with Ben being a bodyguard, there might come a time when he'd have to take a bullet for Roarke. My grim thoughts were interrupted by the jet powering up. The flight crew hurried to set up the staircase that led from the runway to the cabin door.

I dressed carefully for this occasion: my skirt and jacket were conservative and almost boring. I could have worn something snazzier, but knowing that the television and news reporters would be swarming over the airport as they covered the Senator's press conference, I chose to dress down. Ben took his usual station, standing slightly behind Roarke, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses, his head constantly moving as he scanned the crowd on the lookout for any trouble. I was accustomed to Ben always wearing casual clothes but as I watched him, I have to admit that I loved the look of his perfectly tailored navy suit with matching dark tie. I thought he looked so handsome and debonair, I vowed that when he came home and was in my arms again, I'd rip his clothes off.

My head was filled with highly stimulating sexual thoughts as I dreamed of what I would do to Ben when he got home that I barely listened to the Senator's long-winded speech about his hopes that other politicians would take his lead and try to help Korea rebuild.

You smug bastard, I thought as I narrowed my eyes in distaste. You're not doing this for any noble reason, you're only going there to recoup your losses and produce yet another photo op. I rolled my eyes and turned away, unable to bear the smugly smirking face of the man who was mugging for the cameras.

"Boy, he's really laying it on thick , isn't he?" a man's voice behind me said.

I turned around and smiled when I saw it was John Hardigan. "He sure is. Likes the sound of his own voice, I guess." At the very edges of my peripheral vision, I saw several heads turn and look at me but I ignored them. I was only speaking the truth and to hell with what anyone else thought.

John stepped closer and shook my hand. "Congratulations, Sherry. Ben told me the good news about your engagement."

"Thanks."

"Have you set a date?"

"Not yet," I replied. I turned around when I heard the jet's engines power up, preparing for takeoff. I ignored John, straining to keep Ben in sight for as long as possible. My eyes fondly caught the broad shoulders of the man I loved as he towered head and shoulders over every other man present. I smiled as he loped ahead of the Senator and opened the cabin door, waiting for his boss to enter the aircraft before closing the door behind them.

"C'mon, Sherry," John said, giving me his arm. "I'll take you home."

"Now that Ben's gone, it's only an empty apartment."

"Don't talk that way. He'll be home before you know it."

"I guess," I replied glumly. In the passenger seat of John's cruiser, I was sad and silent. It had been less than 30 minutes since the Senator's plane took off and already I was missing Ben terribly. How was I going to manage for the next two weeks?

John must have sensed my mood. "I know something that'll cheer you up," he said. He leaned over and flicked on the sirens and lights of his police car. "Hang on!"

I laughed in delight as the powerful car tore away from the airport, its tires squealing. Through the open windows, I could smell the burning rubber.

"Ben was right, you _are_ crazy!" I shrieked as we wove through the heavy rush hour traffic of Sin City. Cars pulled over when they heard us coming and pedestrians jumped back onto the sidewalks when they heard us coming. I was amazed that we didn't hit anything. It was all I could do to remain in my seat as John swerved recklessly around corners. I was having so much fun, my stomach was hurting from how hard I was laughing.

"It worked, didn't it?" he said, grinning from ear to ear. With all four tires screeching, John parked in front of my building. As I got out the cruiser, I noticed a man in a dark suit standing at the corner. He was holding a newspaper but I could tell his complete attention was solely focused on me. I squinted and tried to get a better look at him, but his fedora hat had been pulled over his eyes, shielding his face.

"Something wrong, Sherry?" John called out.

"There's a man over there, watching me," I said.

Without a word, Hardigan got out of the car. "Where?" he asked, coming to stand beside me. He reached down and removed his revolver from his holster.

"There," I said, pointing to where I'd seen him. The man had thrown his paper to the ground and bolted. Before I could say anything else, John was off like a shot, running after him.

"Basin City police! Freeze!"

Not surprisingly, the man did not stop.

"Get in my car, Sherry and lock the doors!" John yelled over his shoulder and I obeyed. I strained to see what was going on but both men were long gone. I chewed my nails as I waited and it seemed like an eternity before John came trotting back to the car. I leaned over and unlocked the driver's door.

"Whoever this guy was, he got away. I'm sorry." John removed a small pad of paper and a pen. "Tell me everything you remember about this guy. Even the smallest detail could be important."

Unfortunately, there wasn't much to tell but I did my best to remember everything. It seemed like the man had been waiting for me, or at the very least, watching the apartment building to see who came in and who came out.

I started shivering as I realized the possibilities. What if John hadn't been with me? Would he have tried something?

I didn't sleep well that night. Every time I closed my eyes, the same dream replayed itself over and over through my brain….

_The day was beautiful. The sky was an azure blue, with only a popcorn-shaped cloud here and there. Ben and I had gone to the lake on an outing. He had packed a picnic basket for us and we had just finished making love. Ben had been so gentle, I had felt no distress or pain. In the afterglow, I reached down and rubbed my belly, smiling at the vigorous kicking inside of me. I was almost seven months along in my pregnancy and I was getting so large, I wondered if I was carrying twins._

"_Easy there, little one," I murmured. I watched as Ben stooped by the shore's edge to wash his hands. Birds twittered and swooped overhead and I lay back on the grass to watch them. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. The smell of wildflowers filled my nostrils and warm summer breezes skimmed across my skin. _

_The sound of arguing voices woke me up. _

"_No, I won't go with you. I can't." There was something in the sound of Ben's voice that I'd never heard before. I pulled my dress down to cover myself and struggled to sit up and see what was going on. _

"_You have no choice." The other man's voice was deep and gravelly and even hearing it made me shudder in revulsion. Something about it was familiar but I couldn't place it. "You must pay for what you've done."_

"_It isn't fair--" Cold fear settled in my gut as I realized that Ben was afraid._

"_You took my life and I'm taking yours." _

"_Please, please don't! Sherry is over there. At least let me say goodbye!"_

_I tried to move, to make my body obey my wishes but it would not. All I could do was lie there and watch. And listen. I heard Ben and the man who was arguing with him come closer. A horrible, nauseating stench wafted on the breeze. With each step they took towards me, the smell became worse. _

_There was a horrible sinking feeling inside of me as I realized who was with Ben. _

"_Long time no see, Sherry." With horrible clarity, I saw my stepfather. Or what was left of him. His uniform was falling apart by decay and exposure. The same handcuffs Ben had used to bind him to the steering wheel were dangling from one wrist. He—or rather it—saw my horrified expression. His eyes skimmed over my body. "The dumb fuck got you knocked up, didn't he? He'll be a freak just like his daddy." He laughed maliciously. "I'm not quite the man I was before, am I? Well, this is what happens when a body is left underwater for months."_

"_What do you want?" I rasped. I clamped my hand over my mouth to stifle the nausea. _

"_Justice, Sherry, justice. Dead or not, I am still an officer of the law. And as such, I am going to take your husband with me."_

"_Where? Where are you taking him?" I gasped._

"_Where a monster like him deserves to be—Hell."_

"_No!"_

_The flesh around his mouth and cheeks had rotted away, and when he smiled, I could see worms hungrily feasting on his putrefying flesh. I couldn't stand it any more. I turned my head and vomited my lunch onto the grass. This could not be happening! It was a dream. It had to be._

"_I'm sorry, Sherry," Ben said. "You were right. I should-a listened to you." His eyes were filled with tears and he stroked my belly. "Look after my boy, will you?"_

_Tom growled and his skeletal hand clamped down on Ben's shoulder. "Time to go." _

_I watched as they turned away and began walking to the lake. I tried to scream but I couldn't. My throat closed, preventing me from making any sound. I felt a twinge in my womb. It was so strong, the pain took my breath away. It was followed by another and another, the pain coming in waves so strong, I nearly blacked out. I looked down and saw blood gush out from between my legs. I was only in my seventh month! It was too soon to have this baby! Waves of pain racked my body...I was all alone and there was no one who could help me. _

_I heard a hoarse cry after I finally pushed my baby out of me. For some reason, I couldn't move. His cries became weaker as the umbilical cord tightened around his neck. My baby was dying and all I could do was listen…_

I woke up and screamed when I heard the phone ring. The first thing I felt was cold, wet sheets clinging to my body, entangling me so I couldn't move. I was in that dreamlike state between wakefulness and sleeping, and in my mind, the sheets were wet because they were soaked with blood.

I bolted from the bed and from the light of the lamp on the nightstand, I saw that I wasn't covered in blood, it was sweat. The phone rang again and again and I could only stand there, frozen. As the fog of insensibility was swept away, consciousness and clarity took over. I relaxed when I realized there was nothing sinister or otherworldly about who was on the other end. The only person who would be calling at this hour was Ben. I forced myself to calm down and picked up the receiver.

"Ben?"

"Hey, kiddo!" Ben's voice on the other end of the phone was boisterous. "Took you long enough to answer the phone."

I forced myself to laugh. "It's the middle of the night and I was asleep."

"Yeah? Were you dreamin' about something nice?"

"Sure was." I sat down on the edge of the bed and I superstitiously crossed my fingers at the lie. "How was your flight?"

We spent a long time on the phone and talked about this and that but I didn't tell him about the strange man who had been watching our building. Besides, I reasoned, what could Ben do? He was halfway across the world. While telling him might ease my mind, Ben would only worry needlessly. He had enough on his mind right now. When he returned, I might tell him.

Then again, I might not.


	12. A Moment of Weakness

A Moment of Weakness

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the Sin City franchise in any way, shape or form.

Author's Note: This chapter contains some explicit oral content.

lll

I hated the idea of going to school. I had only lived here for a short time but I knew that Sin City was that kind of town where everyone seemed to know everything about everyone else.

For the first few days, it wasn't bad and I was even starting to make a few friends. Then the news broke over the school that I had been a hooker. The girls I had tentatively befriended me shunned me now and the male teachers leered at me, giving me smouldering glances; I only had to look at them to know they would love the idea of bending me over a desk.

I always sat by myself now, but it wasn't because I wanted to. Whatever seat I chose to sit in, those around me got up and moved to the other side of the room. The same happened in the cafeteria. I studied alone, I ate alone, and I walked home alone. Even though almost a thousand other kids surrounded me, it was as if I didn't exist.

Now that Ben was gone, I could only confide in Richard. He had dropped in on me from time to time to see how I was doing. Nurse Gertrude Williams came over as well and we talked for a while about what would be my best career choice. After listening to what she had to say, I knew what I wanted to do with my life and it wasn't being a doctor or nurse. I wanted to help other girls from becoming whores like me; I wanted to help get them off the streets and enable them to get a good education and a fresh start in life.

"That sounds like a very good idea, Sherry," Richard said when I told him. "You are extremely good at helping others. God knows you certainly helped me when I needed you. And I'm not just talking about the sex. You have a gift for listening and you should pursue that."

I blushed as I remembered all the times I had sat and listened to Richard and all those other men I'd fucked tell me about their problems. "Yeah, but I don't want to go to school!"

"Unfortunately, the laws of this state are clear. You have to go. However, there's only one thing you can do," Richard said. We sat in the living room, relaxing after the wonderful dinner we had prepared together. He was an excellent cook and really knew how to put a meal together. He was in no hurry to leave and I was in no hurry to be alone again. We were tipsy from finishing the bottle of wine he had brought.

"What's that?"

"Keep your head up and don't dodge the shots. But don't run away and don't let them get to you."

"That's easy for you to say," I snapped. "You don't have to face them. Wherever I go, I hear whispers. When I turn around, the girls giggle and the boys…well, what they do is worse. One of them put some money in my hand and said, "My daddy gave me ten dollars and told me to go to you so I could get some experience."

"If that happens again, tell the principal. That's what he's there for."

"If I tell anyone, it'll only get worse, I know it will. I really miss Ben," I said. "He'd know what to do."

"Hasn't he called you?"

"I've only got one call from him and that was to say that he'd arrived in Seoul. Other than that, I haven't heard a word. I'm worried about him. Why? Have you heard something?"

Richard put his hand on my shoulder. "Yes he has but before you start worrying, everything is all right. Ben did call me earlier today."

I was surprised, to say the least. However, I deferred my questions until I knew more.

"From what I could gather, the Senator pulled a little stunt on Ben. Understandably, Ben got mad, and gave Roarke his notice."

"What exactly did Roarke do?" I could sense that Richard did not want to tell me.

"Ben said he'd tell you everything when he got back. Long story short, as soon as Ben gets back, he'll be working for Don Battaglio."

I was a little hurt that Ben had not consulted me first, but when it came right down to it in the end, it was his decision to make. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to find out what kind of person the fat Italian was. "What's the Don like?" I could tell Richard did not want to tell me what I wanted to know.

"He's like all powerful men with a large staff--if you do your job right, he can be very generous, but if you cross him, he can be your worst enemy. I know that you are curious and have a lot of questions about the man, but just between us, Sherry, it is safer that you don't know the answers."

"You're right."

"One good thing about Ben working for us is that you are now under the protection of the Mafia."

I gave Richard a wry smile. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Depends on how you look at it, I suppose. If the grapevine at your school is any good, once those kids find out that they've been messing around with a Mob employee's fiancée, they'll leave you alone for good." He looked at me wistfully and he reached over to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "Sitting with you like this makes me remember all the good times we had."

"I remember," I said with a smile.

What happened next took both of us by surprise. In less than a heartbeat, I was in his arms and he was kissing me with an eagerness and desperation I doubted a man half his age could beat. It felt so good being close to him like this; I couldn't stop myself from returning his passionate kisses. He gently eased me back until I lay on the sofa. Richard moved forward so that his hips were between my legs. Our bodies straining against one another, as we had done many times before. Richard growled lustily and clutched me to him in an iron embrace, his hands digging into my buttocks. I could feel the outline of his rock hard cock against my belly. I ground my hips against his, feeling satisfaction in hearing him groan at my actions.

Christ, I wanted him! My loneliness at being ostracized at school, the empty apartment I came home to every night and the fact that Ben hadn't called, made me feel cut off from all human contact. But now that I was in another man's arms, my body and cunt did the thinking for me. My arms reached up around Richard's neck as I ran my fingers through his hair.

My entire body seemed on fire, every nerve was alive and my blood felt white-hot as it scorched its way through my veins, pooling at my clit and nipples. I knew what we were doing was wrong, but it felt so _fucking_ right! The alcohol I had consumed dulled the voice inside my head that was screaming at me to shove Richard away and order him to leave right now but I couldn't...

"I've missed you so much, Sherry," Richard murmured, his hot tongue outlining the contours of my ear. It sent a shiver through me and I moaned softly. He took that as encouragement and before I could take a breath, Richard had pulled my t-shirt over my head. The air seemed cold on my overheated body and I could feel my nipples harden. Richard reached behind me to undo the clips of my brassiere.

By this time, Richard had peeled off his blazer and ripped his shirt off and the specially imported handmade pearl buttons flew in all directions.

We both moaned when his bare torso touched mine. I raked my nails through the hair on his chest. I hadn't meant to be so rough but I left long scratch marks on his skin.

"I miss your tight flesh squeezing my cock," Richard whispered. "I miss hearing your screams when you climaxed, your body writhing in ecstasy, your hips bucking against me. Your legs clamped around my waist as I came inside you. No other woman has ever made me feel the way you do. No one. Look at me!"

I opened my eyes to see Richard's glowering face above mine. His eyes were wild and the look in them both scared and aroused me. "Ever since you've been with him, the thought of never having you in my bed again is killing me! Don't marry Ben, Sherry, marry _me_!"

"Richard, no…"

"I'll make you forget about him. I've always loved you and I'll prove it!"

I felt his body move away from mine and I gasped when he pushed aside the crotch of my panties and slid two fingers inside of me. Against my will, my hips began to counter-thrust so that Richard's fingers went deeper and deeper into my pussy.

"Don't fight it, Sherry. You know you want it and you want me to give it to you."

"No!"

"Your mouth says no but your body is telling me the opposite." His thumb stroked my clit and I moaned like the whore I was. "Yes, that's it, my love," he husked, "come for me! Come for me now!"

"No, I won't! I can't!" I wailed.

"Then I'll make you," he snarled.

Richard's white-hot mouth encircled my clit and I arched my back, crying out. He expertly curled his fingers inside me, hitting my g-spot with dead-on accuracy. It was useless to try not to come; he knew even more than Ben did about what I really liked during sex. My breath hitched in my throat and my fingers were clenched in Richard's hair, holding his head in an iron grip between my legs.

His lips were latched onto my clit and I could feel his tongue ruthlessly swipe across it, each stroke bringing me closer. I felt his fingernails scrape my inner walls and I gasped at the unusual sensation. My head was swimming but despite being more than a little drunk, the pleasure I received from each and every thing Richard did to me was magnified tenfold.

With one final thrust of his fingers and a scrape of his teeth across my swollen, throbbing clit, my orgasm slammed into my body with the force of a sledgehammer. On and on it went, carrying me higher and higher into the stratosphere.

Bright lights flashed and popped in front of my open eyes, blinding me, hurting me, so I closed them again. With a long, shuddering sigh, I felt my body float back onto the sofa and back into dreadful icy reality. The terrible thing I had just allowed to happen didn't hit me until I opened my eyes and awoke to find that the first thing I saw wasn't Ben's blue eyes smiling at me, it was Richard's brown ones.

What the hell had I done? I was Ben's fiancée! I wriggled out from under Richard's sweat-drenched body and stood up. He rose from the sofa and I saw that his fully erect cock jutted out from the front of his pants.

"Sherry, I…."

"Get out of here, Richard."

Richard opened his mouth to say something but decided not to. He got to his feet and put on his shirt and jacket.

Feeling the cold air on my breasts, I crossed my arms over them, hiding them from Richard's hungry gaze. I reached down and picked up my t-shirt before putting it on. If Ben ever discovered what Richard and I had done, God knows what he would do—to him _or_ to me.

"Are you going to be all right?" Richard asked. I turned to see him at the door, his hand on the knob.

"Just go. Don't come back. And say a prayer that Ben never finds out." When the door closed behind him, I locked and bolted it shut. The enormity of what had happened between us hit me. My knees buckled and I slid to the floor.

When I could stand again, I caught my reflection in the hall mirror as I did so. I turned away in disgust at what I saw. My eyes were shining from drinking too much booze and my cheeks were flushed with lust. Unable to stand the sight of the whore I saw looking back at me, I hurled the empty wine bottle at the mirror and both shattered, sending sparkling but dangerous shards of glass everywhere. But I didn't care.

I walked to the window and stared out at the skyline of Sin City in the night. Lights from buildings twinkled in the dark like a million stars. As I waited for my mind to calm down and my body to cool off, I noticed movement from an apartment window almost directly across the street from where I was standing. As I continued to watch, I realized that I had forgotten to close the drapes. For the entire time that Richard was here, whoever lived across the street must have seen everything that went on as their windows looked down on mine.

My eyes narrowed as I gauged the distance between our buildings before shrugging, dismissing my misgivings. Unless they had a telescope, their windows were too far away to have witnessed anything incriminating.

Or, at least that's what I thought.


	13. Justice and Redemption

Justice and Redemption

urn:schemas:contactsJustice and Redemption

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do the Sin City franchise.

Author's Note: A big thank you to everyone who continues to read this little epic of mine. It means a lot to me. A special shout out to my reviewers, especially luvyduvy and wannabanauthor.

Warning: This chapter contains racial slurs.

lll

The morning after, my head felt several sizes too small. I had a hangover and a bad one at that. My eyelids felt like sandpaper as I opened my eyes and peered at the clock. I was late for school!

"Fuck!

There was no time for a shower so I tied my hair in a ponytail and threw on some clothes before bolting out the door. Twenty minutes later, I reached the school's front doors and yanked them open. I was out of breath when I reached my chemistry class.

Every head in the room looked up from their test paper as I came in the door. I groaned. I had completely forgotten that I had a test today on the periodic table. Shit, shit, and double shit. I slid into my seat and glanced up at my teacher who placed a test paper in front of me.

"See me in my office after school," he said. "Room 8B, in the basement."

Through the haze of a powerful hangover, I heard whispers all around me. Fed up at hearing whispers wherever I went, I raised my head to stare these goody-two-shoes girls down. However, this time it was different. Instead of smug glances and sniggering smiles, I saw that some of the girls had completely different expressions on their faces. If I didn't know better, I'd swear on a Bible that they were worried. Something was going on here but I was damned if I could figure out what it was.

I purposefully met the gaze of one of the first girls I made an acquaintance here. Her name was Shirley, a tall chubby girl with red hair and blue eyes. In my opinion, she was very pretty and she was smart. Damn smart. Brilliant, even. She looked at me sadly and I saw her mouth open as if she was going to say something but she didn't. She shook her head slightly and turned her attention back to her paper.

I tried to focus on the questions but I could not. Chemistry was by far my worst subject. When the bell rang, I looked down and groaned again. I had only managed to answer three of the questions. Tears of frustration prickled in my eyes.

The rest of the day passed in a blur; I stared at the blackboards in my other classes mechanically, not taking in a word my teachers said. The final bell rang at 3:30 and I trudged down to the basement office of my chemistry teacher, Mr. Archibald Smedley.

He was in his early forties and what little hair he had was greasy and combed over to hide a growing bald spot. He wore horn-rimmed thick glasses—in short, the perfect epitome of a science nerd, complete with a pocket protector. The door was open. I peeked in and he looked up at me.

"Come in," he said, "and close the door behind you."

I had never been in this part of the building before. The room had small windows that were high and they did not let in much light. As it turned out, it was located next to the boiler room and I could hear the noises. I wondered how he could stand it having his office down in the bowels of the building.

With a wave of his hand, he indicated that I sit in the wooden chair that was in front of his desk. Neither the desk nor the chair was in good shape and I was doubtful that the chair would hold my weight.

"Don't worry about that," he said, "larger girls than you have had to be disciplined on that chair."

His words had an ominous ring to them and I suddenly felt very uneasy sitting here alone with him in the now-empty school. I looked but couldn't find a phone anywhere. It was just him and me.

"You've been a bad girl, haven't you, Sherry?" he asked. "Do you know what I do with bad girls?"

I shook my head. Might as well play along, I thought. "No sir, I don't."

He reached down and took a file out of his desk. I watched as his hands lovingly caressed it, as if it were a lover. What the fuck was wrong with this guy?

"Why don't you come over here and look at what I've got here? It might give you some ideas."

Maybe it was just my imagination, but his words had a double meaning. At his invitation, I got up and leaned over the desk to see what was so damn interesting in that file. Once I opened it up, I wished I hadn't.

Inside were pictures, lots of pictures, of girls. Some were on their knees, giving Smedley a blowjob as he held their head and forced himself deeper into their mouths. Some were bent over his desk as he fucked them. I gasped when I saw a picture of Shirley, tears streaming down her face, eyes raised up and facing the camera, silently pleading with someone, anyone, to make it stop. But the man fucking her couldn't see her—his eyes were closed and a look of pure bliss was all over his features. God, I knew that look. I've seen it on the faces of too many men in too many cheap hotel rooms. He was going to come any second and when he did, he was going to come hard. Right into the mouth of a girl who was young enough to be his daughter.

"God Almighty." My throat sounded hoarse; it was all I could do to speak properly.

"Do you like my collection?" Smedley spread the pictures all over the desk. So many girls.

"You are one sick fuck, you know that?" I was so mad I could hardly see straight. I scoffed. With a face like his, this was probably the only way he could get fucked.

"Yes, I expected gutter language like that from a whore," Smedley said.

"I don't deny it," I said, raising my chin. I may have been a hooker but I was damn good at it. Some of the most powerful men in Sin City told me so. "I was a whore. So what?"

"Do you know how long it's been since I've met a girl with your spunk? Too long. I knew sooner or later, you'd end up here." He looked down at the mass of photographs that spilled onto his desk from the open file. "Once upon a time, your friend Shirley was as gutsy as you."

I frowned. Shirley was not what anyone would call brave. She was submissive and silent now, speaking only when spoken to; dressing in non-descript clothes that even a nun would call plain. "What the fuck did you do to her?

"At first, she fought back. I rather liked that in her. That's why she was chosen."

"Chosen by whom? The bastard holding the camera?"

"Very good, Sherry. My accomplice—whom you will meet him very soon—and I broke her."

"Broke her? How?"

"We told her that if she didn't do what we wanted, we'd show her parents the pictures and they would throw her out if they knew that their little girl brought such shame upon their family." He closed his eyes and groaned. "She was a virgin. So tight, her flesh was buttery soft…It makes me hard even to think about what she was like. So slim in those days, so athletic..."

"Why'd you stop fucking her?" The more information he could provide me with, the better.

Smedley shrugged. "She quit cheerleading and every school team she was on. She let herself go. She got fat."

"And now it's my turn, right?"

"You are a dream come true, Sherry. Not only are you extremely pretty, your past makes you the perfect candidate."

I raised my eyebrow in a question. "Oh?"

"Taking virgins, while exhilarating though it may be, does get tiresome after a while."

"Poor you," I sneered.

Smedley leaned back in his chair and I was disgusted to see that he had one hell of a boner. He saw where my eyes were directed and chuckled. "But you, my dear, are quite a different story. You know how to please a man. You don't need to be told what to do every step of the way. From your previous profession, you probably know more about what a man really likes during sex than ten married women put together, don't you?"

"You have no idea of the things I can do," I said, giving him a sultry look. I wondered how I was going to handle this situation and decided that pretending to go along with his sick desires was the best course of action. I figured that if I did, it would prevent him from satisfying his lust on another innocent girl like Shirley.

At all costs, I knew I had to stop this man's twisted game. So there were two of them in on it, were there? Well, I had an ace of my own in my pocket. An ace that was six feet tall, weighing over two hundred pounds of solid muscle. Jones would give this man a taste of his own medicine and all I had to do to set the wheels in motion was to make one phone call. Soon, it would be he who would be begging for mercy. And if I knew Jones, once he got wind of what this bastard was doing, he would show none.

But first things first. I had to convince Smedley of my abilities. I walked around the desk and stood in front of him. I went to my knees and pulled his zipper down. As I expected, his cock sprang out from his greying shorts.

I opened my mouth and closed my mind.

lll

"Damn, Sherry, you are good," Archibald Smedley panted. I couldn't help but smirk up into his greasy face. Instead, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and tried not to throw up. I would never tell anyone what had just happened between us. And if Smedley opened his mouth, it would be a case of he said/she said. After tomorrow, any credibility he possessed would be destroyed forever.

"Maybe you should straighten yourself up," I said. He walked unsteadily to the door and before it barely had time to close behind him, I went to the desk, grabbed a handful of the photographs, and stuffed them into my binder. I needed ironclad proof of what he had done to these girls. If I only went to the police and told them what I knew, it would be a case of he said/she said. With these pictures in my hand, there would be no way it could be disputed. I had no doubt that these girls would never come forward on their own and the kind of justice I had in mind had nothing to do with a courtroom.

An eye for an eye, as the old saying went. Or in this case, a hole for a hole.

By the time Smedley came back, I was sitting in the chair, primly adjusting my blouse and skirt. "So would you like me to come back tomorrow, wouldn't you?" I purred, looking up at him with my most provocative smile. After what I had just done to him and because of my skill at doing it, I had no doubt that Smedley would gladly jump through any hoops I cared to hold. "And can I meet your friend then too? It'll just be the three of us, all alone down here. You can even set up the camera. That way, you'll have something to remember me by. Won't that be fun?" If I played my cards right, both of them would be caught red-handed.

"It certainly will," Smedley said.

"So, what time would you like me to come by?"

"Four."

"Four it is then." I was unable to hide a smile. At that time of day, it would be getting dark outside. With the autumn nights becoming colder and wetter, no one would be around to hear their screams. It was perfect.

As soon as I got home, I made my call.

"Jones? It's me, Sherry."

"Hey, Sher," Jones' baritone voice filled my ear. "I heard that Ben is coming to work for us now, huh?"

"He sure is," I said.

"What's up?"

"I need a favour. It's important. Can I come over?" I asked, twisting my finger in the telephone cord anxiously as I waited for him to respond.

"It sounds serious," Jones said.

"You have no idea."

"Sure, c'mon over. Give me fifteen minutes to clean up first, okay?"

Twenty minutes later, I was at his door. When I called, he had been working out; there was a set of weights in the corner of the living room. He was wearing an undershirt and track pants. As I followed him inside, I was struck by the ripple of his muscles of his powerful arms and shoulders as they glistened with sweat. The very size and shape of him made a longing for Ben came over me. To avoid staring at his well-muscled body, I steadied my nerve and dug in my bag for the photographs.

Jones' face and mouth tightened in anger as he looked them over. Even though his rage wasn't directed at me, I was afraid. "How long has this been going on?"

"I don't know, Smedley never told me and I didn't ask but judging by the number of pictures I saw, it could have been years."

"Some of these girls can't be more than fifteen, for Chrissake!"

"They're the same age as me," I said softly as I put my hand on his arm. "We _have_ to do something, Jones."

"I know. What did you have in mind?"

I squirmed in my seat. "Well, I think that these monsters get a taste of their own medicine. Let them know what it's like to get fucked. You know what I mean? And I could call Hardigan, show him the pictures, and tell him to put these guys in a prison where they can be properly taken care of." I gave Jones a look and he understood me.

It is a well-known fact that in prisons everywhere, child-molesters are considered the lowest of the low. I had no doubt that on their first night in the joint, they'd get a hard dick shoved into every fuckable orifice they possessed.

Already I could see the wheels turning in his head as he pondered the matter. Because of the nature of his work, Jones knew more things about inflicting pain than I ever could dream up in my worst nightmares.

"Are you willing to go all the way with this guy?" I was one of the very few people in Sin City who knew Jones' deepest, darkest secret--he was homosexual.

With his looks and body, he could have any woman he wanted. Oh sure, when Jones was out on the town with Don Battaglio and his entourage, there was always a gorgeous girl hanging on his arm. However, Jones' interest in his date began and ended on her doorstep. It went no farther than the occasional kiss. Any fondling or groping they did was just for show.

"How did you know?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I figured it out. During our times together, you always took me from behind. I didn't mind because you never forced me or made it painful. Not only that, you prefer to have a blowjob anyway. I put two and two together. I won't tell anyone," I said, forestalling his next question. "Not even Ben."

"Thanks Sherry. But in answer to your question, yes, I can do it. And I will."

"Hell Jones, he'll shit his pants when he realizes what you're gonna do to him."

"I hope so. Bastard deserves everything that's coming to him and then some."

"Amen to that," I said. "But before we get too carried away, we have to plan things out first."

lll

Jones walked me home later that night after our plans had been put into place. Once in bed, I slept fitfully. So much depended on what happened tomorrow. So much could go wrong. In the early hours of the morning, I finally dozed off.

Mechanically, I went through my classes, always keeping an eye on the clock. I was dreading the time when four p.m. finally arrived. At ten minutes before I was to go to the basement, I let Jones in at the gymnasium door as we had arranged. My heart was pounding when I knocked on the door of room 8B. I entered the room and when I got the first look at Smedley's accomplice, I had to bite my lip from laughing.

I didn't know his first name but I knew who he was. Principal Dilbert. It was none other than the one I turned to in desperation when dear dead Uncle Tom was dragging me away so he could beat and rape me until I was broken and bleeding. The man who ruled the school with an iron fist. It was he who patrolled the halls, a yardstick in his hands, measuring the length of a girl's skirt to see if it was too short. It took a while but I figured out that any girl he thought or imagined was loose in her morals, got taken down to the basement.

Oh, revenge would be sweet, I vowed. Now Dilbert would know what it was like to be helpless. Helpless and looking for help. Well, I would watch and laugh as Jones dealt Dilbert his long-overdue justice.

I walked into the room with a confidence I was far from feeling. To my relief, the camera was already set up and ready to go. I had no idea how to work the goddamn thing and if this plan was going to succeed, pictures would have to be taken.

"Can I see some more pictures? The dirtier the better." Christ, with all the skill I was using, I should have been an actress.

"Why?"

"Dirty pictures make me so hot," I said, injecting just enough wide-eyed innocence in my expression to make anyone looking at me certain that I meant every word.

Eagerly, Smedley opened a couple of drawers. I was shocked to see that the drawers were nearly overflowing with photographs. I skimmed over them, there were so many! My stomach turned when I saw that many of them were girl-on-girl. "How did you get them to do that?" I asked in spite of myself.

"I can be _very_ persuasive when I wish," Principal Dilbert said. He had removed his black leather belt and was now tapping it into his palm.

"Are these all of them?" I said, gesturing to the mass of photos. "What about negatives? Are these the only copies?"

"Why do you want to know?"

I stood in front of him and drew myself up to my fullest height. "Because this sick little scam of yours ends tonight. I'm going to destroy every single one of these photos. But not before I take a few pictures of my own. You are both going down."

"And how are you, an ex-whore, going to manage to do that?"

"I have some help," I said. I glanced over my shoulder and I swear I saw Dilbert's jaw drop when he saw Jones. But Jones wasn't alone but he certainly had been when I let him into the school. Apparently he had had a backup plan that I knew nothing about. The more the merrier, I thought. At his side were two other men I'd never seen before. One was a very handsome black man, in a navy pinstriped perfectly pressed suit with a crisp white shirt and dark silk tie. He winked at me and grinned widely, a gold tooth sparkled at me when he did. When he spoke, his Southern accent and manners came through loud and clear.

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Edward Beauregard. I reside in the fine city of Charleston, South Carolina. And may I say that I am very pleased to meet make the acquaintance of such a fine young lady as yourself, miss," he said.

I shouldn't have asked but I had to. "What exactly do you do for the Don?"

Edward smiled. "My talent is that I am a highly skilled and highly paid forger, miss. I must apologize but time, as they say, is wasting. Once this unsavoury business has been concluded, I sincerely hope that when we meet again, it will be under better circumstances."

Despite the seriousness of the occasion, I couldn't resist smiling as he kissed my hand. "I certainly hope so too, sir." I glanced at his companion. The other fellow was not dressed up to the extent of the first man. In fact, he looked like any other leather jacket-wearing greaser with slicked back hair that could be found at any diner. All he did was chew his gum and look me over. Edward nudged him sharply in the ribs before rolling his eyes.

"I do apologize, miss. My companion here goes by the name of…well, his name is not important and it might be best if you don't know it. He's not much to look at, but he's a genius when it comes to cameras."

"We don't have a lot of time, gentlemen," Jones said before checking his watch. "Sherry, this is what you will do. I don't think I need to tell you that every picture in this room has to be destroyed. Fill the wastepaper basket. Take it to the furnace room—it's the one with the black door. Throw everything into the furnace. Once you are done, on no account come back into this room no matter what you hear. After that, I want you to go home. I'll be over later to drop off the negatives. All right?" He stared the principal and his confederate in the eye. "In case you haven't figured it out, we're here to avenge the innocent girls in this school that you've hurt."

"Get your damn hands off me, you fucking nigger!" Smedley tried to break out of Edward's grasp but the black man was too strong for him.

"This niggah's ain't gonna do dat. Not 'til ah's done wit' you, Massah. No suh!"

I winced as I listened to Edward. Instead of speaking like the cultured gentleman he really was, Edward was deliberately and exaggeratedly talking in a tone that was demeaning.

There was a look on his face that I would never forget and it was an understatement to say that I hoped to God I never got on the bad side of this man. Beneath the custom-made clothes, and beneath his polished façade of being a gentleman, Edward Beauregard had the heart of a killer.

I did not linger over my task; I did not even take another look at Jones' friends. It was better to know nothing, to hear nothing, and when the time came, to deny everything. I closed the door behind me. I hurried to the furnace room and opened the furnace door. To make sure that all the pictures were destroyed, I put them into the flames a few at a time. I had to wipe the tears that spilled from my eyes as I saw the images. A lot of them had nothing to do with sex—I saw countless instances of girls being beaten and even whipped by yardsticks and especially that black belt Dilbert had been lovingly stroking. I saw pictures of girls, stripped to the waist, their skirts pulled up as a man delivered blow after blow, their skin nearly flayed from their bodies. Welts, cuts, bruises…I saw it all.

"You're all free now," I murmured as I watched the edges of the photographs curl and blacken before the fire consumed them forever. "Shirley and all of you whom I will never meet. No one will ever hold these against you again."

I was still crying when I walked past Room 8B. I slowed my steps and listened at the door. I heard Smedley's voice loud and clear as he begged not to be sodomized..

"Please, please don't do this, brother! I promise I won't do it again!"

Damn right you won't, I thought. Insulting Edward by referring to him first as a nigger, then trying to diffuse the situation by calling him a brother probably made him angrier.

"There will be no one who will ever believe a word that comes out of your mouth, especially when they see these pictures of my big black cock buried in your lily-white ass. Hold him down for me."

I heard muffled struggles but the sound of Edward's zipper being pulled down seemed to resound through the room.

"Damn, this honky's ass is the tightest I've ever seen. Unfortunately for you, my good sir, that just so happens to be just the way I like it, as a matter of fact." Edward chuckled between grunts.

As I listened to Smedley's screams as Edward pounded hard into his ass, I felt a pricking of my conscience for a moment but forced it down. My nerve hardened when I saw all the scared faces of the girls in the pictures as they flashed before my eyes. He and Dilbert had done the same to countless innocent girls. They had begged and pleaded not to be whipped or raped too but no one listened.

"When we're done with you, you and your so-called partner in crime won't be able to show your faces in this town again. I'm sure there are a lot of daddies out there who would turn a blind eye to what I am doing if they knew what you've done to their little girls. Are you gentlemen getting this on film?"

"What's your hurry, Ed?" Jones replied. "We've got all the time in the world."

The next words chilled me. "Because I want a nice 10 by 12 inch blow-up shot of this white man's pretty mouth around me to send to the newspapers.. That's it, cracker boy, open wide."

I couldn't listen any longer. I turned and ran down the hallway. As soon as I got home, I changed my clothes and took a shower. Even though those men were only getting what they deserved, I still felt dirty over my part in the whole mess. I chided myself for feeling any sympathy and steeled my mind to what would happen next.

Jones had said he would come over and he did. While waiting for him, I had dozed off on the sofa. At his second round of knocking, I bolted upright. I had been caught in the half-awake state between dreaming and reality. The first thought that rushed through my head was that the police were coming to take Ben away for Tom's murder.

I sat on the sofa, unable to move except to clutch a pillow to my chest.

"It's me, Sherry," I heard Jones say through the door. "Can I come in?"

I ran across the room and opened the door, nearly falling into Jones' arms.

"Hey, are you all right?"

I shook my head. There was no use pretending that I was all right, even to him.

"You're shaking," he said, holding me in his arms. "Here, let's go sit down." He led me to the sofa and covered me with blankets. "When you go to school tomorrow, it's gonna be a completely new experience."

"What did you do?"

"Let's just say that bulletin boards can be very useful tools for spreading information."

"But what if either of them takes the pictures down?"

"That's where my nameless friend came in handy. Like I told you, he's a genius when it comes to cameras. He made many, many copies from the negatives—that's what took us so long—and we put copies into each and every teacher's school inbox."

"Holy shit! And the negatives? What did you do with those?"

Jones patted his jacket pocket. "I'm keeping them safe. What I'm hoping will happen is that those two turn on each other. Each of them had to watch while the other was getting fucked up the ass. That's not something I'd want anyone else to know nor can you forget. Even if they never talk about it again, its always gonna be in the back of their minds."

"Thank you--"

Jones put his finger over my lips. "One more thing. We made it so that you'll be getting all the credit. We sent a letter in your handwriting to the newspaper with a scoop. They will know that at great personal danger, you brought two monsters to justice. As I said, you will find a complete turnaround of your fellow student's opinions of you. Tomorrow, you're gonna be a hero."

Jones flowery explanation didn't do much for my misgivings. I was viewed by my schoolmates as being a whore. Once a whore, always a whore. I wasn't about to become the school saviour overnight. Besides, what others thought of me didn't matter; what was important is that justice was done.

lll

The next day, everything Jones said was true. In the course of twenty-four hours, I went from zero to hero in no time flat. Instead of getting dirty looks wherever I went, I got smiles and waves and invitations to join everything from the student council to the cheerleading squad. I no longer ate lunch alone; whatever table I sat at became the coolest place to eat. During the next week, if I wore my hair loose, scores of girls followed my example. Whatever I wore to school became the hottest trend.

Best of all, I renewed my friendship with Shirley. She didn't say much but I could tell that she would be all right. She was taking the first steps in regaining her sense of self. It would take a while, but she was healing.

When I got back home, I received the best news of all—Ben was coming back!


	14. Wedding Night From Hell

"I think I might have a solution

Wedding Night From Hell

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters connected with the graphic novel or movie Sin City and I'm not making any money from this piece of work.

Author's Note: This chapter contains both consensual and non-consensual M/F situations. Please R&R!

lll

Almost as soon as Ben descended from the ramp, I was in his arms. I had missed him so much and my remorse for my actions with Richard made me hug him tighter.

"Hey, easy there, kiddo! You act like you haven't seen me for a lifetime!" Ben protested.

"It feels like it," I murmured into his tie.

"Well, I'm back now and with any luck, I won't be going away anytime soon."

"Let's get married."

Ben laughed. "But we _are_ going to get married. Remember the ring I gave you?"

"No. I mean now. Today. As soon as humanly possible." I pulled away, sensing reluctance on Ben's part. "Don't you want to get married?"

"Of course I do! And we will in a day or so when I get used to being on good ol' USA time. I'm completely exhausted, honey. Seoul is a helluva long way from here."

I swallowed my disappointment as bravely as I could. "Sure. That's okay."

Ben took my chin and raised it up so he could look into my eyes. "I mean that, Sherry. I am gonna marry you. But what about a big, splashy church wedding with all the trimmings? I thought all girls wanted that on their wedding day?"

"Not this one," I said. "It wouldn't matter to me if we got hitched by a Justice of the Peace."

"Really?" Ben asked. "Sherry, why do I feel you're hiding something from me?"

Damn! I cursed. Ben could read me like a book. To ally any suspicions he had, I ducked my head. "I'm just glad you're home, that's all. I haven't been sleeping well lately but I think that will change when you're beside me in bed tonight."

Figuring Ben would be tired, I let him rest, despite the fact that my pussy was burning with desire for him. As soon as we got home, Ben undid his collar and yanked off his tie. "Now I can finally breathe without that damn noose around my neck," he joked as he kicked off his shoes and put his feet up on the coffee table. I brought him a beer and he almost drank the whole thing at once. He belched loudly and looked sidelong at me, as if waiting for me to chastise him. Instead, I shook my head and laughed. I remembered all the times my dad had done the same thing. My mother told me countless times that all men burp and fart and feel very pleased with themselves afterwards. "It's just a thing men do, sweetheart," she'd said once.

I prepared a good meal for him—it took me most of the afternoon to do it. He yawned his way through only a few forkfuls before he pushed the plate away and said he was too tired. He tried to make it up to me later by telling me stories about what he'd seen in Seoul but I ignored his efforts to make conversation and he eventually stopped talking.

Ben went to bed early and I stayed up to watch the Late Movie. I was so horny, I hardly paid attention to what was on the screen. Around two, I went to bed. As soon as I had settled myself, Ben's strong arms encircled my body. He spooned against me and I felt his cock twitch against my ass. I sighed, angry with myself for not masturbating earlier when I was watching the movie. Now I faced a long night with a wet pussy and a hard cock next to my ass. Because of Ben's bulk, I was hanging onto the very edge of the bed and any wrong move would see me dumped on the floor.

I scowled when Ben's hand reached over and caressed my breast, twiddling with my nipple until it was a hard peak. He was teasing me even in his sleep--it was too much! I was going to sleep on the sofa. I grabbed my pillow and was almost in a sitting up position when I felt my fiancé's fingers against mine.

"Where are you goin'?" Ben whispered.

"The sofa," I snapped.

Ben trailed his fingers up my arms. "Why are you gonna do that?"

I tried not to respond when I felt his hot lips against my neck. "Because I'm horny as hell, you're hogging the damn bed and you hardly touched your damn dinner, that's why!" My mother always told me that honesty was the best policy and at that moment, I was too pissed off to be diplomatic. I was going to say something else but with gentle persuasion, I was eased back until I was lying down. I felt Ben's fingers reach my pussy and I immediately forgot everything else. They skimmed down the length of my slit, which was so wet by now, I was probably leaking onto the sheets.

"Damn kiddo, you weren't kidding!" Ben chuckled in the darkness. I spread my legs and Ben immediately took advantage of the better access.

"Instead of laughing at me, why don't you do something about it?" I snapped.

"Why didn't you come to me earlier?" Ben countered.

"You said you were tired."

"Tired? Hell, yeah I'm tired, but the only way I've ever gonna be too tired to fuck my best girl is when I'm dead."

I suddenly felt a cold draft brush its icy tendrils across my skin and shuddered, dismissing the prophetic dream I'd had about Ben paying for murdering my stepfather. "Don't say that."

"What's wrong?" Ben's voice was tender and concerned.

"N…nothing," I stammered. "I just got a chill, that's all."

"Well, I will never let it be said that I can't keep you warm," he said. Before I could breathe, my nightgown was in a pile on the floor and Ben's heated skin was next to mine.

"I missed you so much," I whispered, caressing his stubbly face in the darkness. I sighed when I felt his arms hold me closer. His cock was hard against my lower belly. He had said he was tired so I decided to do things a little different in bed.

I straddled my future husband, enjoying being on top, enjoying being the one in control. I felt a familiar stirring in my pussy and as my lust rose, I rode Ben harder. He answered my passion with his own, grunting and groaning with desire, thrusting hard into me, filling the deepest, most intimate place in my body. My pussy juices seemed to stream out in a never-ending flow, sliding down Ben's cock and onto his groin, making the ride even more slippery and wet.

Ben's hands settled at my hips, and with each thrust upwards, he brought me down against him, his cock spearing me at every movement. I ground my hips against him, making his cock go deeper than any man before him. There was a sharp twinge whenever his dick hit my cervix but it only heightened my pleasure.

I was getting close to my orgasm; as it raced closer to its peak, I increased my speed until I was bobbing up and down on Ben's cock like a toy. Until that moment, I never knew what it meant to be a woman. I did now. It was as if my body were going through the motions up until this point in my life but it wasn't until now that I felt truly alive. My sexuality was finally awake and it came out roaring.

Through a haze I heard Ben hiss sharply as my nails raked his chest and nipples but I couldn't stop myself. Liquid fire raced along my skin, slithering down my spine and pooling in my cunt. For a few heart-stopping moments, I was teetering on the brink of absolute insanity. Like a roller coaster, I was suspended on the brink and it was only a moment or two before my orgasm came crashing down, taking me with it.

It seemed like as soon as I came down from one orgasm, another one leapt to take its place. Every nerve in my body was fused together in such an orgy of extended ecstasy, I remember wondering if I would die from the onslaught.

All my senses were swirling together. Taste, touch and smell became one confusing blur. I heard Ben reach his own climax but sensory overload became too much. I welcomed the oncoming rush of the black void.

The next thing I remember was the feel of a cold cloth being placed on my forehead. My body had not one once of strength left. It felt as if all my bones turned to rubber. I was too weak to even lift up my arm and take the cloth away. I moaned; it was the barest whisper but Ben heard it.

"Thank Christ! I'd thought you'd died or something!"

I smiled weakly. "You're not getting rid of me that quickly." With each breath I took, more strength returned to me. "But it would be one hell of a way to die! What happened?"

"Well, after you stopped thrashing around and screaming, you just slid off me like runny Jell-O. It was all I could do to catch you before you hit the floor. So how was it?"

I laughed when I heard the note of smugness in Ben's tone. Like all men, he wanted to hear from my own lips that he'd just given me the best sex I'd ever had. In this case, it was true.

lll

The next morning during breakfast, I asked the question that had been burning inside of me ever since Richard told me that Ben had quit. "I heard that Roarke did something while you were together," I began.

Ben's face flushed in anger. "He sure did! That bastard found out that we were getting married and what does he do? He arranges for a hooker to come to my room in the middle of the night. I had gone to bed real late because of meetings and stuff and it was around three when I finally hit the sack. I was half-asleep and I feel a woman in bed next to me. I thought it was you and she started touching me and I….liked it." An uncharacteristic blush darkened his features. He lowered his head and wouldn't look at me.

I felt jealousy but I suppressed it. Who was I to be jealous after what I had done? It would serve me right if he'd cheated on me. I did what I did with my eyes open; if Ben had slept with her, it was only because of his exhaustion. What red-blooded man would resist the advances of an eager, pretty woman in his bed—especially if there were no strings attached?

Ben continued. "So she starts workin' on me but I told her no. I'm gonna be a married man. My girl's the only one who'll ever be in my bed. She's been faithful to me. I can't cheat on her. I _won't _cheat on her." Little did he know his words were like a knife in my heart.

"What did you do?"

"I kicked her out of bed and if she really wanted to fuck a man, the Senator's room was just down the hall. Once she was gone, I jerked off. You're not mad at me, are you? Because you gotta know that if I'da known….I mean, I was half-asleep! I'm sorry if I'm hurting you by telling you this, I didn't mean to but—and I'm not makin' excuses here or nothin'—but men don't always think with their heads, you know what I mean?"

In spite of the guilt I was feeling, I laughed. I couldn't help it. Even at my age, I knew that men think with their dicks anyway. I nodded and stroked his age-worn face. "I understand Ben, I really do."

His face brightened and he gave me a hug that took my breath away. As I clung to him, I felt guilt and remorse sweep over me. This man loved me so much that he paid thousands of dollars to set me free. I owed him my life, my soul. Everything I was or had, belonged to him.

lll

The ceremony at the Justice of The Peace's office the next day was short and sweet and I won't lie when I say that a quick five-minute ceremony in front of a JOP was not how I pictured my Special Day. No, like all girls, I had dreamed of a big church wedding, surrounded by family and friends, everyone smiling and crying, flashbulbs popping…a young man waiting for me at the altar. Instead, my wedding day found me in a plain white dress, no family or friends present to wish me luck, and the man who was now my husband was old enough to be my father.

I brushed tears of disappointment from my eyes. Old or not, I loved Ben with all my heart. I prayed that he would never find out…

lll

Home sweet home," Ben said happily, as he carried me over the threshold.

With a sigh, I wrapped my arm around him "Pinch me, Ben," I murmured as I buried my face into his shirtfronts. "Tell me this isn't a dream. Tell me it's real."

"I'll do more than just pinch you," Ben whispered.

My head was spinning from the heated kiss he then delivered. His lips were so hot; they almost burned mine from the scorching kiss. I giggled. I reached up to remove his tie and opened two or three of his buttons. "I'll be right back."

"Where you going?" Ben asked.

He had followed me into the bedroom but I shooed him out. "Don't come in until I tell you to."

"Why?" he asked, a slow, sexy smile spreading over his face.

"Because I am about to put on something special that I bought from The Naughty Lady, and I don't want you to see it yet, that's why, "I teased.

Ben face lit up. "Is that that sexy shop I've heard so much about?" he said.

"It might be," I said coyly. "But unless you leave me alone for a few minutes, then you'll be sleeping on the sofa."

"Not even a peek?" Ben asked, looking past me to the parcels and shopping bags that lay strewn on the bed.

"No. Now scram! Give me five minutes and then you can come in," I said, finally succeeding on getting the room to myself. I sat on the bed and removed the white dress I had worn to the justice of the peace's office. I sorted through the bags until I found the negligee that I wanted. It was a floor length red silk, the lace bodice clinging to my chest, outlining my firm breasts. As I was completing my dressing, I heard the sound of someone knocking on the apartment door followed by the sound of Ben saying something. There was a brief conversation between them. I tried to listen in but the walls were too thick.

I dabbed a bit of perfume behind my ears and between my breasts and laid back on the bed, waiting for my husband. Five, ten then fifteen minutes passed and Ben still did not come in. I got up and went to the living room. Ben was sitting on the floor, staring at something in front of him.

"Who was at the door?" I asked.

Ben did not answer. Instead, he pulled something from a thick envelope.

"What is that?" I asked.

"You tell me," he growled. He was very angry but I couldn't figure out why. "And it better be good. Look!"

It wasn't until I got closer that I realized what it was. Spread out in front of him was photographs. Lots of them. For several heart-stopping seconds, I thought that someone had taken pictures of me giving a blowjob to Smedley.

But these were worse.

Each picture detailed exactly what had happened the night Richard had come over. Eating dinner. Drinking wine. Laughing inanely at each other's jokes. And, last of all, snapshots of his head between my legs. It was obvious that I wasn't being forced into anything; my hands were rooted deep in his hair, holding his head in an iron grip. Even a blind man could have seen the expression of bliss on my face.

Now it all made sense! Roarke was upset that Ben wanted to leave his service and this was his way of getting back at me. Perhaps it was even why he'd sent a prostitute to Ben's room. Roarke sicced those investigators on me, telling them to get every piece of evidence they could, the more damning, the better. And they did.

I remembered the flashes of light that made my eyes hurt when I came that night. My orgasm had been so intense, I originally attributed the light to that. Only what I had seen weren't stars—they were the flashes that are generated when a camera is used at night. Seeing the angle of the shots, it was obvious that the pictures had been taken from somewhere above the living room window.

"What…where did you get those?" I said.

"Does it fucking matter? For Chrissake, Sherry, tell me that this isn't you. Tell me Richard forced you!"

Even though I was sorely tempted to lie to him, I didn't. Ben was my husband now. No matter what, he deserved the truth. "Ben, I—I…"

Ben snarled and grabbed me by the throat. "I oughta kill you for cheating on me but I won't. But you'll wish I had." For a large man, Ben could move quickly when he needed to. Before I had a chance to take a breath, his meaty hand clamped down hard on my shoulder and forced me into a kneeling position. It wasn't until he began fumbling with his belt and zipper that I knew what he was going to do.

"No, Ben. Please. Not like this…not on our wedding night! "

"Too fucking bad! Suck me off like the whore you are!"

Rape was no way to start a marriage. I knew that the Ben I fell in love with was still behind the mask of fury and betrayal that was looking down on me with hate and pain. His hands were gripping my head in a grip of iron. This was not oral sex. This was face fucking at its most brutal. He was forcing himself inside my mouth so hard and so deep that all I could do was gag as his dick hit the back of my throat with each thrust.

To my relief, Ben pulled out. I flopped back down onto the floor, coughing. But he wasn't going to let me go that easily. Ben put his hands around my neck and started to squeeze. I could not even voice a protest; the best I could do was managing a hoarse croak that sounded barely human. "Please…"

"Please what, Sherry? Stop? Why should I do that, huh? That's what you deserve for fucking Richard behind my back."

At this point, my vision began to swum. Ben's face faded in and out of my consciousness. I was fighting a losing battle to remain conscious. Even so, I knew--as Ben did not--that tears were falling from his eyes. "I _loved_ you! I bought your contract and this is how you repay me? By sleeping with Richard the moment I'm out of sight? How could…?"

With one hard shove, I was down on the floor, lying on my back. He straddled my hips with his knees and pushed up my negligee so that it bunched up around my waist. He gave me no warning but shoved his cock into my body. It hurt so much, I was unable to utter one comprehensible word. I couldn't even tell him to stop. I gasped and arched my back from the pain.

Gulping sobs racked his powerful body and his grip lessened around my throat as he succumbed to the grief of my betrayal. I could tell he was cumming because his thrusts were becoming harder and more erratic. With one final, violent shove, he pushed himself inside of me and rested his weight on his hands and knees until he got his breath back.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. By the time the words were out of my mouth, I knew I had just made a terrible mistake. Ben's face took on a look of sheer rage, I was frightened.

"You slut," Ben hissed.

Ben raised his arm, his hand clenched into a tight fist. Even though every part of my body and soul wanted to put my hand up to defend myself, I didn't. For better or for worse, we were married. Ben had the right to hit me for what I had done with Richard. If he wanted to hit me, I would not stop him nor would I ask for mercy—I deserved none.

But the blow never came.

Ben got to his feet, pulling on his pants and shirt. He reached into his jacket pocket and threw some money at me. "This is for you. A whore who gives a man a fuck like that deserves to be paid well for it."

He was giving me money! Like the commonest dirty street corner hooker, my husband was paying me for my services. Now I truly knew the meaning of the word _whore_. Because I was one. Even during the worst moments in my life, I never felt as worthless and cheap as I did now.

I ignored the money. "Where are you going?"

"Out."

Ben slammed the door behind him with enough force to rattle the windows. I was alone. Every part of my body hurt so much; I could only drag myself to the sofa. For hours, I lay there, curled into a tight ball; waiting and hoping the pain would pass and Ben would come home.

The clock had barely struck two when the door opened and Ben staggered inside. I ran towards him and even from a distance of several feet, I could smell the alcohol and cheap perfume that emanated from his clothes. Ben grabbed me by the arm and dragged me off to the bedroom.

"Take off your clothes and get in bed," Ben snarled but I was shaking so badly, I couldn't even slide the peignoir from my body. My fiancé growled. "Let me. After all, a husband should do this for his wife. How appropriate that you chose red. Red is for whores, not decent, respectable wives, now is it?"

His words were dripping with sarcasm so I did not answer him, I was too afraid of inciting his anger again. He put his hands on the bodice and pulled. The thin fabric ripped with no difficulty. Once I was naked, Ben threw me on the bed.

I was feeling very afraid. Unwisely, I crossed my arms over my breasts to hide them from view.

"It's too late to pretend to be shy, you know. A husband has the right to see his wife naked, especially on their wedding night, doesn't he? Hell, you've been naked for Rich, right?"

I hardly had a chance to for a single thought before Ben was between my legs. I tried not to cry out when he pinched my nipples.

"Mine," he said, his words slurring. He grabbed me by the back of the neck and kissed me hard, his teeth biting my lips until I tasted blood. "_My_ lips."

Tonight, our wedding night, I was seeing a side of Ben I hardly knew existed. Oh, he had told me that he had raped a woman, but until two hours ago, I never dreamed he was capable of doing that to me. He told me that he loved me. But every man has a limit. The pictures Roarke's investigators had produced of Richard eating me was enough to drive him over the edge--into doing the unthinkable.

Ben ripped at his clothes until he was proudly standing naked in front of me. I was afraid, too afraid to look at him or notice what a fine body he had. My heart was pounding in my ears and my limbs seemed as if they were made of iron. I couldn't move.

He grabbed my feet by the ankles and spread my legs as wide as they would go. His hands inched their way upward, his thumbs meeting at my pussy. I whimpered in fear when he touched me because my cunt was aching from his earlier assault. Ben knelt over me and positioned himself over my dry hole. I clutched at the bed sheets, desperately trying my best to brace myself for what was coming next. He pushed himself inside me to the hilt. "_My _cunt," he snarled.

Ben pounded into me over and over again, each thrust becoming harder and harder. Against my will, I felt a climax building inside of me. I tried my best to hold it back but I couldn't. It was as if my body had a mind and a will of its own. The pain from his earlier violation only made the pleasure that much greater.

With each thrust, he claimed me as his exclusive property, I loved him with every fibre of my being, and I almost lost him because of one incredibly stupid mistake. However, the pain heightened the ecstasy. I must have done something to alert Ben as to what was happening because he laughed harshly. "I knew it. Only a whore would like getting fucked into the mattress. Come for me, Sherry. Come now!"

Again, even though my mind tried to suppress it, my orgasm raced through my body. I could feel Ben's cock thrusting into me and it was as if each stroke made me come again. I arched my neck and screamed, filling the four corners of our apartment with the sound of my ecstasy.

Suddenly, Ben stopped thrusting into me. I cried out in pain as I felt his cock leave my torn and bruised pussy. He flipped me over until I lay on my stomach. "Spread your legs," he growled. "I ain't gonna ask twice." I obeyed.

He pried apart my ass cheeks with his strong hands. With sudden, horrible clarity, I knew what he was going to do. However, by now, I had lost the will to speak or even to fight back, because I knew that if I did, it would only make things worse. I bit into the pillow to hide the scream of pain when Ben pushed his dick to the hilt into my ass. "_My_ ass," he growled. "Sweet Jesus, you're tight!" he groaned.

When a woman is afraid, and I mean really afraid, her body ceases to function. She can't move or speak. All she can do is watch what is happening to her and listen to her heartbeat as her pulse pounds in her ears. It was as if I were suspended on the ceiling, looking down at the nightmare that was transpiring on the bed. I heard myself moan in pain as Ben reached under my body, wrenched, twisted my nipples, and sank his teeth into the sensitive flesh between my neck and shoulder. I heard Ben call me vile, filthy words; words that no man should ever say to the woman he loves.

However, I knew, as Ben did not, that he was crying. I could feel his entire body shake with each sob. I knew that he was cumming; his thrusts were getting harder and more erratic. With a great groan, he clutched me to him and I felt his cock shudder and twitch inside my ass he spurted inside of me, where, God knows, he shouldn't have been.

He slumped forward, his entire body weight on me. He panted heavily and I could feel his sweat trickle from my back and onto the sheets. I cried out again when he pulled out of me but this time he was gentle. I lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what was coming next. Emotionally and physically, I was completely numb.

Ben spread my legs and I automatically tensed, thinking he was going to rape me again. I tried to push him away but he held my hands. "I'm not gonna hurt you anymore, Sherry. Trust me."

I gasped when I felt his hot breath on my pussy. He licked me gently and I relaxed, feeling the pain ebb away. Warmth spread from my pussy all over my body. I was coming to life again. My breathing hitched in my throat as he latched onto my clit and suckled me. I was brought to the edge of ecstasy then I was hurtled into a pit of never-ending pain when my husband stuck a finger inside of me. He did it tenderly but after his two rapes and my orgasm, my pussy couldn't take any more—no matter how gentle he was.

I screamed, uncaring of the consequences and writhed away until I was on the other side of the bed. I drew my knees up until they were jammed under my chin. "NO! No more! Please!"

Instead of more pain, as I expected and feared, Ben took me into his arms. "I ain't gonna hurt ya, kiddo. I reckon I've done enough of that."

He carried me into the bathroom. He placed me on the floor and shortly after, I heard running water. As he did a lifetime ago on the night we met, he placed me into a warm bath and gently proceeded to wipe the cum and blood from my body.

This must have stirred a memory of how we first met in Ben because without warning, he burst into tears. He hunched his shoulders and buried his face in his hands, as sobs racked his body. "I'm no goddamn better than the Roarke's," he blubbered.

Even though I bore the pain and bruises of Ben's repeated violations, I could not help but get angry. "How can you say that? You are ten times better…"

But Ben's blood was up and he wouldn't let me finish. "_I AM THE SAME_! Look at what I did to you, for Chrissake! You're bleeding and bruised and ripped apart inside! God knows what damage I did…" Ben swiped a hand across his running nose before continuing. "When you were at the estate, you were taken, by brute force, in every hole a woman can be raped in. That's _exactly_ what I just did! How can you say I'm ten times better, huh?"

"Because you _love_ me, that's why. You hurt me because I hurt you and in my opinion, that is justifiable. What the Roarke men did to me was out of indifference and wanting to hear me scream in pain. To a woman, there's a difference between the two."

Ben did not answer; instead, he buried his face in his hands again and continued to sob. No force on earth could have stopped me from putting my arm around his shoulders. He needed someone to comfort him and what better person could do that than his wife? The vows I had taken earlier today included to have, to hold, to love and cherish. And to comfort. Our tears mingled together.

There was great irony in the fact that me, the one who was raped, was comforting my rapist. Even after what he'd done to me, I still loved him. I shushed him when he started to apologize; it wasn't his fault. What I had done with Richard was unforgivable. Ben had exacted his own punishment and we were even. When he'd calmed down, I felt brave enough to ask a question; the answer for which I was dreading but had to know nonetheless.

"Where did you go tonight?"

"A whorehouse."

I nodded. I'd guessed as much, judging by the reek of the perfume. I decided not to ask which whorehouse he had gone to—I didn't want to know.

He sat on the edge of the tub, his hands dangling between his knees. "I went in there, and asked for the youngest, prettiest girl they had. We went to her room and kissed for a bit. I liked her. She started touching me and I got hard. Fast. But…I couldn't do it. God knows I wanted to—she was lyin' there all wet and ready…waiting. My cock was hard enough to cut diamonds, I wanted her so bad. But when it came down to it, I couldn't fuck her."

"Why do you think that was?"

"Dunno."

"You could've, you know. No one would have grudged you."

"Yeah, I know. I—I'm telling ya right now, Sherry. You ever do that again….Richard will be dead and you'll have his blood on your hands. I won't be made a fool of. I love you with all my heart but I won't share you with anyone. I shouldn't have to."

There was justice in what he was saying. "You won't." But as Ben made a condition, I made one as well. "Because if you ever hurt me like that again, I won't just lie there and take it. I know damn well I can't fight back against you, but what I will do is take the sharpest knife we've got and kill myself." I started shivering. It was delayed shock but even hot water wasn't enough to get me warm. "Will you hold me until I fall asleep? I'm so tired."

"I know, kiddo. I'll sleep by you tonight but I think that I should stay on the sofa. And I'll stay there until you say so, okay?"

I nodded my head. I needed time to heal and it would be better if we were apart. Ben gently hauled me out of the tub and rubbed me down. I was starting to warm up a bit but what I needed most was a big, fluffy comforter and a heavy nightgown of some sort. He picked me up in his arms again and put me down on the bed. I turned my face away from the red Olga gown that was ripped and lying in a silky heap beside the bed. When I put it on, I thought I'd experience the joy every bride feels on her wedding night. Instead, I had been brutalized by my own husband.

Ben saw what I was looking at and kicked it under the bed. I pretended not to notice. As Ben pulled out nightie after nightie from the dresser, he finally found one that was older and definitely something a bride would never wear on the first night of her married life. He pulled back the sheets and I froze as I saw the large splotch of blood on the sheets.

"Aw crap, let me take care of that," Ben said. He stripped the bed and turned the mattress over. In less than five minutes, the bed was made. I raised my arms like a child and he eased the flannel nightgown over me, sliding down my body until I was covered from neck to ankles in the warm fabric before tucking me in.

He left me to go to the kitchen and he came back with a glass of brandy and some pills. "Now, I know what you're thinking," he said, "but these will only help you sleep. They're not gonna get you addicted or nothing."

I didn't say a work but I took the pills and swallowed the brandy. It burned pleasantly as I swallowed it and I felt warmer. When I'd had enough, Ben took the glass away and tucked me in again before getting in on his side of the bed. I turned my back on him and curled into a fetal position.

All night long, we never said a word.


	15. The Morning After

The Next Morning

Disclaimer: This story has nothing to do with the Sin City franchise and I am not making money from it.

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who continues to read this little saga of mine. I have to send out a a very special thank you to my two favourite reviewers--LUVYDUVY and wannabanauthor. It is your reviews that keep me going! Thank you SO much!

lll

The light of the noonday sun seeped into my consciousness, burning through the sandpaper of my eyes. I groaned, and buried myself deeper into the covers. However, the pain and memories of what had happened the night before intruded into my mind. Pain from muscles I didn't even know I had, screamed in my body and the more awake I became, the more the agony increased.

I didn't want to wake up, I wanted the complete opposite. I wanted to die. At no other time in my life, not even in the filthy alley when I'd overdosed on cocaine, did I ever want to die more. Hot tears prickled at the corners of my eyes and I let them fall. I rolled over and was glad to see the place where my husband slept was empty and cold. The thought of facing him made my blood freeze in my veins. What was I going to say to him? Could Ben still be angry and take it out on me again? What was I going to do now?

I wanted to stay in bed and never come out of it but an achingly full bladder changed my priorities. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and waited for the room to stop spinning before I dared to test my strength by putting my feet on the floor. Using the bed as a brace, I stood up. My head swum but after a few deeps breaths, I felt stronger. The walk to the bathroom never felt so long. I used the walls to steady me when I felt faint and after what seemed like an eternity, I closed the bathroom door behind me.

I finished what I had to do as quickly as possible; even passing urine caused me pain. I didn't want to think about what it would feel like to…I shook my head. No sense worrying about that until I had to. A hot bath was what I needed now. I sat on the floor next to the bathtub and turned on the taps, constantly increasing the flow from the hot water tap.

I stripped off the flannel nightgown and saw a large bloodstain on the back of it, where my ass had been. I reached out and touched the stain and to my relief, the blood was dried. That meant that, for now at least, the bleeding had stopped. However, I was faced with another problem: I had to get a clean nightgown, as I sure as hell wasn't going to wear this one again.

But, first things first. I gasped in pain when I stepped into the hot water. I was tempted to add cold water to my bath but I grit my teeth and sat down quickly. At first, it hurt like hell, but the heat from the water slowly numbed the painful throbbing from my ass and cunt. It took a long time but I scrubbed my skin as hard as my dwindling strength permitted. I scrubbed until the dried blood from my ass and cunt were gone. Even so, I still felt dirty. Soiled.

Waterlogged and near exhaustion, I hauled myself out of the tub. My knees would not support me and I sprawled inelegantly on the floor. The absurdity of my situation came over me and I started to laugh. I laughed so hard that my muscles that had been dulled by the scorching water awoke again. I was back where I started from, but at least I was clean.

I resolved that if I couldn't walk, I could at least crawl back to the bedroom. It would take twice as long but at least if I fell, I wouldn't have far to fall. As I slowly progressed to the bedroom door, I heard Ben's heavy footsteps coming toward me. Before I could protest, a pair of strong arms enveloped me. I was too weak to struggle and allowed myself to be picked up like a child and carried to the bed.

I was handled with such gentleness that I found myself wondering how the man who held me now could be the same man who brutalized me last night.

"Christ, Sher, why didn't you tell me you needed help? C'mon, let's get you under the covers again."

Ben's tones were gentle and full of concern and my heart flip-flopped with love for the big lug. But whatever softer feelings I was feeling vanished when I felt his lips brush mine.

"Don't touch me!" I shrieked and jerked away from his touch. My lips were still puffy and red and it hurt to speak but the last thing I needed or wanted right now was to be touched. By _anyone_.

I curled into a ball and drew the blankets over me. "Could you find something warm for me to wear?" I had no right to ask him and it would serve me right if he refused. Instead, I heard him open one drawer after another and rummage through each of them.

"Here," Ben said. "All of your stuff is kinda thin and frilly so this will have to do." It was true. Almost all of my nighties were something a bride would wear; they weren't practical in any sense of the word. Lacy and transparent, they were designed for the sole purpose of enticing my husband into ripping them off my body in the heat of passion. This, ironically, was exactly what happened last night. I reached out to take the item of clothing that was in his hand. It was one of Ben's white dress shirts. I sat up, flung the blanket away, and started to put the shirt on.

"Christ," Ben whispered, his breath shaky and weak. I looked down at myself—there were bruises around my wrists and body not to mention the ones he'd left inside of it. I could only imagine what my neck would look like once the bruises started showing, The stricken look I saw on his face as he viewed the damage he inflicted on my body was something that would stay with me for the rest of my life.

A part of me wanted to say something hurtful; something to rub salt into the open, festering wound of his guilt. I wanted to make him feel pain but I couldn't. I suddenly remembered all the times my dad told me of women who loved the men who beat them, often within an inch of their lives. As I child, I wondered how a woman could love a man who beat her—I understood it now. When a woman loves a man, we love him no matter what he has done to us. The good part of him, the part that we fell in love with, is still inside even when he turns into a monster on the outside.

No matter what Ben did to me, I still loved him. "Remember when I told you last night what would happen if you raped me again?"

"I remember," Ben said hoarsely. "You said you were gonna kill yourself."

"That's right. Do you know why I said that?"

"No."

"I said it because I've been beaten and raped by men who'd paid for me and felt they had the right to do whatever they wanted to me. That's part of the job description for a whore. But rape and beating is not part of the job description of a wife. Violence of any kind has no place in a marriage. If you hurt me like that again, my blood will be on your hands. Do you understand?"

Ben's face was shiny with sweat and I saw him lick his lips to moisten them. It took him a while to get himself under control. "Sherry, are you saying what I think you're saying? Are you…are you gonna leave me?"

"No, I'm not. I know why you hurt me and I don't blame you. If you'll forgive me, then I'll forgive you. Deal?"

Ben was on his knees by the bed and he buried his face against my breasts. I held him like a mother comforting an injured child. There was something else I wanted to get out of the way but figuring out how to do it right was almost impossible. An older woman would have known how to handle the situation but I was so young; I was dealing with adult emotions and situations were frightening and overwhelming. Sometimes I just wanted to be a kid again, to be just another fifteen year old girl—talking about boys, going to movies, having sleepovers…However, circumstances and my Uncle Tom made me grow up several years too soon.

"How about we start with a clean slate from this day forward? Can we do that, or is our marriage over before it's even begun?"

Ben nodded. I held his head in my hands and looked into his eyes. He looked awful. The dark circles and bloodshot eyes were the result of no sleep and too much booze. Had he even managed to sleep last night? I doubted it.

"I love you, Sherry. I don't wanna lose you! It's just that I saw those pictures and I…I lost control…" His voice broke. "I—I'm sorry."

'I know Ben. And I'm sorry for hurting you as well." We stared into each other's faces; I saw the anguish in his eyes and he saw the same in mine. It was a long moment before I spoke again. "I want to talk to you about Richard." I felt Ben's body stiffen underneath my hands. "He's been my friend for a while now. And yours too, I think. If it's okay with you, I was wondering if that could continue? I'll understand if you don't want me to see him anymore. I just miss talking to him because…" I was glad I curbed the impulse to say that he was like a father to me—for no father would perform oral sex on a girl he saw as his daughter. "I'm only asking because you'll be working with him now. You'll see him every day and I don't want to spend every hour of the day wondering if you killed each other."

"For you, kiddo, I'll do anything. Even facing that rat bast—yeah, for your sake I'll try to get along with him. It's gonna be hard, though. Real hard not to want to punch his face in…" Ben ground his teeth angrily and slammed his fist into his palm.

"That means a lot to me, Ben. Especially the part about not punching his face in." Even though my mouth hurt, I cracked a wry grin.

"But he shouldn't have done what he did," Ben snapped. "I trusted him. I told him when I got to Korea to take care of you, not to take advantage…"

"Can I get something to eat?" I blurted. I wasn't hungry but I could tell that Ben was getting angry and the best way to handle the situation was to defuse his anger before it got out of control. As I expected, he took the bait.

"Sure, sure. I'll whip you up somethin' real nice. Anything in particular you want?"

"Pancakes. With lots of syrup and butter. And tea?"

"Comin' right up, ma'am. It's sure nice to see you smile again," my husband said. I sat in his lap and leaned against him, savouring the strength of his arms as they tightened around me. Everything was resolved between us. Now that the worst was over, I felt a sense of weakness pass over my body.

I heard a buzzing in my ears; it was like a thousand angry hornets had taken possession of my head. When I tried to speak, it was as if I was trying to talk underwater. I felt a sudden warm flush from between my legs. Ben said something but the buzzing noise in my head overrode everything. Through a haze, I was barely aware that Ben had laid me down on the bed.

"…you don't look so good. I'm gonna call the doctor."

I fought to stay conscious. "No. No doctors." I knew what would happen—once I got to the hospital, the doctors would take one look at my injuries and slam Ben's ass in jail.

"Sherry, this ain't the time to argue. You need to see a doctor. You're hurt. Oh Christ, you're bleeding!"

"No doctors! Call Gert. She's a nurse. Let her see…make her come."

"Okay. I hope to God she's off today." As he had done before, Ben wadded up a towel and put it between my legs. "You're gonna be okay, you hear me? You have to be all right. What the hell else…Right. Call Gert."

The last thing I remember was Ben running out of the bedroom.

lll

When I awoke, I was surprised to find myself in a strange room. The walls were whitewashed, cold, and sterile. The scent of harsh antiseptic filled my nostrils and I knew where I was. A hospital room. Why was I here? Then the memories came flooding back: getting married; preparing for my wedding night…but after that, nothing. What had happened in the time between?

A man in a white doctor's coat was taking my pulse. "Ah, you're awake. That's good." He made several notations on the clipboard he was holding. "How are you feeling?"

"Like a train wreck," I muttered.

"After what you went through, I'm not surprised." He looked grave. "Sherry, your injuries were extensive but there was something else." I saw the doctor glance over to Ben. "Your father should hear this as well, but it might be upsetting."

"He's not my father, he's my husband." I answered.

The doctor's eyes widened in shock and was there also a flash of revulsion on his face? He glanced at the ring on the third finger of my left hand then quickly leafed through my file. I could guess the reason--he was checking to see how old I was.

"You're married and you're only _fifteen_?"

I nodded. "Fifteen is the legal age to get married here. Please, doctor, what were you going to say?"

He sat down on the edge of the bed. "When you came in, you were haemorrhaging." He took my hand and held it in his. "We did everything we could but we couldn't save the baby."

"I was pregnant? How did that happen?" I blurted.

The doctor smiled, his dark-shadowed eyes sparkling in bemusement. "The same way babies have been created from the dawn of time…"

"No, you don't understand. I _can't_ have children. It's impossible. Look through my file. You'll see I have a lot of damage, you know, on the inside."

"I know. I've read your medical records and I know the full extent of your injuries." He glared hard at Ben. "Did _he_ do that to you?"

"No. Senator Roarke and his sons were responsible. Please…just tell me. How far along was I?"

"About six weeks. I am very sorry for your loss." He got to his feet and stared at Ben down. "I ought to throw your ass in jail for what you did to her, you bastard. But I have the satisfaction of knowing that you'll have to live with the fact that you were responsible for the death of your unborn child."

I moaned from the pain of my broken heart as well as his heartlessly cruel words. Ben didn't mean to kill our baby. Neither of us knew that I was pregnant. Against all the odds and flying in the face of all the evidence to the contrary, I had conceived a child. Now that child was gone and my heart was broken. I placed my hand over my empty womb. There had been a life inside of me and I'd never known. Had the baby been healthy? Was it a boy or a girl? I would never know the answers.

As I wept, one question kept nibbling at my brain, like a mouse gnawing behind a wall. Six weeks into my pregnancy, the doctor had said. I tried to calculate how much time had passed since the last time I slept with Richard but the details were hazy. I knew it was the night I tried cocaine for the first time but how long ago was that?

Who had been the father—Ben? Richard? Someone else? I had had so many customers, it could have been anyone's baby. Momma and I believed the doctor when he told me that I would never have a child. As a result, no man who'd fucked me after I healed from the Roarke incident used a condom. Not one.

"Doctor, will I be able to have another baby?"

He looked down at the ground before answering. "You beat the odds once, you might do it again."

"Might?"

"I'm not going to lie to you, Sherry. Because of the deep scarring of your uterus, your chances of conceiving were slim to non-existent. However, you've healed wonderfully. But with these new injuries you sustained…I can't give you a guarantee. I'm sorry."

"How long do I have to stay here? I'd like to go home."

"Aren't you going to press charges?"

I was perplexed. "For what?"

The doctor looked at me as if I had suddenly grown two heads. "Your husband hurt you in ways that a husband should never do to his wife. Don't you want him to go to jail for what he's done?"

I shook my head vigorously. "I love my husband. He is a good man." I ignored the doctor's scoff of derision.

"So, you don't want to press charges?"

"No, sir. I don't want my husband to go to jail. He's not a criminal."

"We'll see about that," the doctor promised darkly. "You got lucky, mister," he said, turning to Ben. "Your wife refuses to press charges and I can't force her. If I were you, I'd be on my hands and knees thanking my lucky stars for having such a devoted and forgiving wife. If it were up to me, the only place she would be able to see you is at Statesville Penitentiary on Visiting Day." His lip curled into a sneer. He regained his professional bearing but it took quite an effort on his part. "Before the end of my shift, I'll come back to check on you, all right?" With one last scathing look at Ben, he turned and left the room.

Grief hit me, fast and brutal. "My baby…my poor little baby," I wept, putting my hand over my navel where the child would have been growing and slumbering if only …if only what? What had happened to rip the dearest part of me from my womb, leaving it empty and barren? The idea came to me that it might be best if I didn't know. The doctor said Ben had hurt me. How? Despite his obvious strength, Ben had always treated me with gentleness—except of course, when I wanted sex to be a little rougher.

I napped for a while and when I woke up, Ben was gone, and Nurse Gertrude Williams was standing next to my bed. She smiled and I was astonished at the transformation a simple smile made to her face. She was no longer dowdy and prim; instead, she had blossomed into a very lovely woman.

"I told Ben not to call the doctor," I said reproachfully.

"He didn't. _I _did. As soon as I got to your place and examined you, I knew you needed to get to the hospital as soon as possible. I've seen too many women die from miscarriages and that's exactly what would have happened." Her expression became soft. "How are you feeling?"

"Empty. Empty and alone."

She took my hand. "I know, child. Believe me, I know. I was about your age when I became pregnant the first time…You may not think so, but there will come a time when you will accept what happened. All you can do now is grieve. And try to heal."

It was none of my business but I asked anyway. "You were pregnant at my age?" Ben had told me that Gert was a teenager when she joined Ben's group of runaway—and thrown away—kids. By the look on Nurse William's face, sudden understanding came over me. "Ben was the father, wasn't he?"

"Yes." She handed me a pill. "You need your rest."

But I wasn't ready to give up so easily when it came to finding out more about Ben's early life. "Did he know about the baby?"

"Of course he did. Oh, we loved each other deeply. Once Ben found out about the baby, he was full of hopes and big dreams for us. But I was the more practical one; we were still kids ourselves, barely sixteen. We had no business bringing a child into this world when we had no idea of where we were going to sleep at night or where our next meal was coming from. So, I did the only thing I could—I had an abortion. We had no money to go to a real doctor so I had to go to a neighbourhood woman who performed them in her kitchen. She had no medical training and lots of the girls who went to her ended up barren or dead. I was lucky on both counts." She sighed and looked sad. I sensed that she hadn't talked to anyone about this before. She needed someone to confide in and I was willing to listen. "Looking back, I realize that it was the right decision at the time but I regret it now. You know, I still find myself wondering if it was a boy or girl. What would she or he have looked like? I will never know."

I knew exactly how she felt as I had had those same questions about my own lost baby.

"Every year on my due date, I wonder what might have been if I hadn't gotten rid of my baby. He or she would have been twenty-five this year. You'll probably do the same thing. Son of a bitch!"

I turned my head and saw that Ben had come back into the room. Gert flew at him and the unmistakeable sound of a palm colliding hard with a cheek echoed through the room. "How _dare_ you hurt that girl?!"

Ben did not lift a hand to defend himself. He simply waited until the first rush of her rage was spent. "Gert, there's nothing you can do or say that will make me feel any worse than I already do, all right?"

"Serves you right! What right did you have to lay one finger on her? I ought to have John Hardigan arrest you on the spot."

"He won't do it again," I said. "He promised."

"He'd goddamn better not," Nurse Williams muttered. She turned back to me.

"When can I go home?"

Her gaze softened. "Honey, I'm not sure you should be going home. Least of all, with _him_."

"But Ben is my husband. Please tell me, Gert. What's wrong with me? What happened? No one will tell me anything and I have a right to know."

"Don't you remember?"

I shook my head and told her everything that I remembered.

Gert sighed. "Sometimes the mind compensates for what we experience in life. If it is too traumatic, our mind blanks it out. Maybe it's for the best this way if you don't remember. Here, take this pill. We'll talk more later. Right now, the best thing for you is to get plenty of rest."

I was trying very hard to suppress my temper. Why was everyone treating me like a child? If I was old enough to get married, then I was old enough to know the truth about my condition. I knew it had to be serious; everyone from the doctor on down looked at Ben with anger and contempt. And both the doctor and Gert threatened to get the police. What had he done to me? I saw the bruises on my body when I was putting on Ben's shirt at our apartment. Was it only a matter of him being a little too rough and eager on me on our wedding night or was it something far more sinister?

Not wanting to fight anymore, I lay back in bed and took the pill.


	16. A Difficult Decision

A Difficult Decision

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the Sin City franchise and I am not making any money from this story.

Author's Note: This is a slight re-write of the chapter titled "Aftermath." I didn't change much; I just thought the first time around that Sherry forgave Ben too easily.

Thank you to my faithful reviewers wannabanauthor, LUVYDUVY and my newest fan, RomRomz. Everyone's reviews is what keeps this story going!

lll

During my time in the hospital, I'd given a lot of thought to the baby I'd lost. According to the doctor, I'd been six weeks into my pregnancy. Six weeks. I tried to remember who I had been with at that time, but I couldn't. As much as it broke my heart, it was probably for the best that I'd lost it. The baby was probably conceived when I was drinking and doing drugs and more likely than not, it had been damaged by all the poisons in my body.

That brought up another question: who had been the father of my baby—Ben or Richard? Or was it some other anonymous customer? I'd fucked so many men; how would I ever know the answer? After the doctors told me I'd never be able to have a baby after the Roarke assault, not one customer had worn a condom. My inability to get pregnant was what made my services and body requested so many times.

Many women in my shoes would have left Ben flat after he raped me, but despite everything, I loved him with all my heart and most importantly, I believed him when he said that he would never do that again.

Ben began to go out at night and sometimes wouldn't come back until long after I went to bed. When I woke up in the morning, I'd find Ben sprawled on the sofa and still wearing his shoes. Even though Ben had hurt me in ways no man should treat his wife, I found that I wasn't able to just leave him there like that. I removed his shoes and pulled a blanket over him. I hated myself for not staying awake until he got home but I just didn't know what to do and I had no one to confide in.

On the evenings that Ben didn't go out drinking, we would be in the same room together for hours, watching television or reading, always with an uncomfortable silence between us that seemed to grow as the days passed. Every day we went through this charade of being married when, in fact, we were becoming strangers to one another. It became so bad that sometimes I couldn't bear the awful silence that enveloped us. Without knowing I was even doing it, I would comment on something, anything, just to hear Ben's voice. Of course, our conversations never went beyond commenting on the weather or which baseball team would win the World Series.

Occasionally during these conversations, Ben would open his mouth to say something then he'd change his mind and his face would become sad again. I missed his smile, his jokes, and the unmistakable smoldering look in his eyes when he wanted me.

One afternoon, it came as a pleasant surprise when Ben announced that Gert wanted to see how I was healing and if that would be all right.

"Of course! It'll be nice to talk to someone for a change. Anything would be better than staring at four walls like I've been doing since I left the hospital." There was a pained look on Ben's face but I was too excited at the thought of actually talking to someone to notice.

Less than an hour later, I turned around to the sound of the bedroom door opening. Ben stood there with a tentative smile on his face. "She's here."

Gert came into the bedroom and put her black medical bag on the bed. "I'd like to talk with her alone, Ben," she said, pointedly staring at the door. She refrained from saying a word until Ben had left the room and closed the door behind him. "I have to wash my hands before I examine you. While I am gone, take your clothes off and put a sheet over yourself."

I did as she requested and waited. I heard her and Ben talking but I couldn't hear what they were saying. When she came back in the bedroom, I noticed that her face was red and her mouth was tightly pursed in an expression of anger.

"Normally, I'd do this in a doctor's office or hospital, but in your case, it would raise too many questions, so we'll just have to make the best of a bad situation. Here we go. You will feel some discomfort but it is necessary as I have to make sure your stitches are healing."

Because of the nature of my injuries—rape and sodomy—I would have had to be peeled from the ceiling from the pain. However, Gert was a woman and knew that a rape victim needed to be handled as gently as possible. Other than the fact that the instruments she was using to probe my vagina and anus seemed like they had just come out of a freezer, my exam had gone well.

In less time and discomfort than I expected, Gert announced that she was finished. "You are healing wonderfully, Sherry. And I don't think I've ever had a quieter patient."

"Shouldn't we ask Ben to be here too?"

"Why? You are my patient and what goes on between us, stays between us. It's none of his business."

"How did it go?"

"You are healing wonderfully but I would recommend that you abstain from sexual intercourse for another three weeks."

There was a question I had been dying to ask her but up until now, I didn't have the courage. "Gert, did you tell anyone about what happened? I mean, about Ben hurting me?"

"No I didn't. No one but me and doctor knows the truth. If the hospital finds out I fixed those records, I'll be fired."

I nodded, wondering what she had done for me. "What do you mean, you fixed my records?"

Gert pursed her lips together. "It took some doing, but I convinced the doctor on staff to alter his report saying that you'd been attacked by an unknown assailant."

"Why?"

"Can't you guess? Richard is a powerful man with powerful connections and if he knew, or even suspected, how you got injured, he'd go after Ben with a gun. I think you know that better than anyone. I saw how protective he was of you when you overdosed. I saw the way he was looking at you. He loves you."

"No, you're wrong. Richard doesn't love me in that way. Yes, we've slept together but there's no way that he loves me."

"Sherry, I need you to trust me when I say that he definitely does." Gert sighed. "I hate Ben for what he did to you, but he is one of my oldest friends. I don't want him to get hurt."

In my mind, I mulled over what she had said. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. When I overdosed and Richard saw the marks on my body, he had gone after Ben with his fists. The only reason Richard didn't use his gun at the time was because he was in a hospital. Gert was right—one word from Richard and Ben would be a dead man.

Richard's voice from that last time I saw him, echoed through my head: "Don't marry Ben, Sherry, marry me!"

Oh my god, I thought, was she right? Did Richard really love me?

Gert checked her watch. "I have to go now, Sherry."

After putting on my clothes again, I got up from the bed and walked her to the door. Ben stood at my side and helped Nurse Gertrude Williams put her coat on. She turned her head and even though she was talking to me, her eyes never left Ben's face. "I told Sherry this and now I'm telling you. You will abstain from sex for at least three weeks and that's final. Do you understand what I'm saying, Ben?"

"Yeah," Ben mumbled. "I got it."

Gert's temper immediately flared at the sulky tone in Ben's voice.

"Don't you take that tone with me, mister," she snarled as she poked a finger in Ben's chest. "You alone are responsible for Sherry being in the state she's in. Remember that. If you get blue balls, you have only yourself to blame. You keep your hands—and every other part of your body—away from her or you'll answer to me."

She stepped away from Ben and turned her attention to me. "I didn't come over here to only see how you were doing; I wanted to let you know that if you ever need a place to stay for whatever reason, my door will always be open. If you want to talk, call me any time of the day or night." She took a prescription pad from her bag and wrote her number on it before giving it to me.

I was so moved by her generosity, it took several tries to get the words "thank you" out.

The first month of any marriage is usually the happiest time in a couple's life but that was not true in my case. Unlike other brides, I couldn't welcome my husband's touch—I cringed whenever he came near me. While we were doing the dishes one night, Ben inadvertently brushed against my breast. Immediately, I flinched and backed away.

"Don't touch me!"

I saw the hurt look on his face and wished I could take the words back but the damage had been done.

Ben sighed. "I guess I'll call Rich in the morning."

"Why?"

"So he can draw up some papers and end this. We don't have a marriage, Sherry, and the sooner it's over and done with, the better. I saw the look on your face when Gert offered to take you in. You were happy about the idea of leaving me."

Tears clouded my vision. "I'm trying, Ben, I really am. It's just that…"

"You can't stand being near me and you scream when I touch you. I guess I can't blame you for that, but it appears to me that we no longer have a marriage."

"You hurt me…"

"And you did the same," Ben countered. He wasn't angry, just sad. "I'm not sayin' that what I did was justified, but I am sorry. I love you, Sherry, but I need you. Not just for sex, although I will admit that is part of it too…Aw, never mind."

When he turned away, it suddenly occurred to me that Ben had been grieving as well. Most people think that only a mother can feel the agony of losing a child, but they are wrong. Fathers mourn too.

Sometimes late at night when I couldn't sleep, I'd hear him pacing back and forth in the living room for hours. I remember thinking that he was awake because he was horny but now I saw that that wasn't the case. Guilt and sorrow had kept him awake. I needed him. My arms ached from not being able to hold him. I missed feeling his body next to mine. For the last two weeks, I had no one to hold me or dry my tears when I wept about our lost baby.

I knew that if we didn't heal this growing rift, we would grow farther and farther apart until there was nothing left between us. With his back turned, Ben didn't see me take a step towards him. My mouth went dry and I shook with fear at the thought of being this close to him, but I swallowed and stifled the urge to run. If I backed down now, I knew that I would never be able to live with the idea that I had not done everything I could to save my marriage.

Ben had done the unforgivable when he raped me. But so had I, when I allowed Richard to perform cunnilingus on me. Who was I to judge Ben for reacting the way he did? If I had caught him with another woman, I'd be damn mad too.

I made one of the most difficult decisions of my life. I stretched my hand out and put it on his arm. Ben whirled around. I was startled at the movement and instinctively shrank away but Ben reached out and touched my face. The ice that had encased my heart for weeks began to melt and I went closer to him. Before I could take another breath, I was in Ben's arms. Our tears mingled and we shared the grief that only the parents of a lost child could ever understand. Together, we both spoke the same words: "I'm sorry."

Once our tears stopped falling, we simply stood there, looking into each other's grieving faces. For too long, our minds and bodies had been starved from the absence of human contact. I had missed him so much! I gloried in the feel of his body against mine. From his quickened breathing, I could tell he felt the same. I put my arms around my husband's shoulders and held him. Hardly aware of what I was doing, I slowly brushed my lips up his cheek. I kissed his strong jaw line before running my tongue over the swirls of his ear and I heard his breath catch in his throat.

"We can't do this, Sherry. As much as I want to make love to you, I can't."

"Why not?'

"Because you're still healing, that's why! They said that you were damaged inside. As much as I want you, I won't risk hurting you again. Anyways, you remember what Gert said--that we shouldn't make love for one month."

"It was three weeks," I corrected. "But that doesn't mean that we can't be intimate." I slid my hand downward until my fingers touched the cold steel of his zipper. I pulled it down and slipped my hand into his shorts. He groaned and I felt him get hard as I stroked him.

"I've missed you so damn much. I've gone into the bedroom sometimes when you were sleepin' and I've watched you. You'd be lying there all peaceful and calm. You don't know how hard I found it to walk away and not take you in my arms and…you know."

"Come back to me, Ben. Sleep with me tonight."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. Okay, we can't be together in the usual way, but we'll just have to be more creative, that's all."

"Creative how, exactly?" Ben asked. My husband was coming back to life and I was encouraged.

I placed my mouth next to his ear and lowered my voice. "My lips around your cock and your mouth on my cunt."

Ben let out a breath in a long shudder. "It's been so long since I tasted you, it's been driving me crazy."

At his words, I felt a thrill of lust snake its way down my spine and pool at my cunt. I ran the back of my fingers over his unshaven chin. "I'm not letting you near me until I get rid of this."

"You offering to give me a shave?" Ben asked. I saw the ghost of his old self shine through his tired blue eyes.

"Yup. But I've never done it before, so you'll have to guide me." I got to my feet and looked over my shoulder. "You coming or not? I can't do this without you."

He nodded and eagerly preceded me to the bathroom. He put the lid down on the toilet and sat down. Under his instruction, I took the ceramic shaving mug and taking the brush, I mixed up the shaving cream into a foamy lather. I dipped the brush into the whole mess and proceeded to lather my husband's face. He actually laughed when I dabbed a bit on his nose. My Ben was coming out of his shell.

Until this moment, I'd never dreamed that performing this intimate service for a man could be such an erotic experience—for the both of us. I opened the straight razor and dipped the brush into a mug, working the soap into a goopy lather. After Ben's face was covered, I ran the blade down his cheek. I rinsed the razor and made a wider swath down his face. I was nearly scared to death but under Ben's guidance, I managed to shave the left side of his face without a nick.

When I was done with the right, I hesitated. Now I had come to the tricky part—shaving his neck. I knew what to do—years of watching my father shave had given me a good idea how to proceed. But still, I was apprehensive. I told Ben to raise his chin.

As I held the razor in my hand, I felt an overpowering feeling of rage flow through my body. I envisioned myself drawing the razor across his Adam's apple, making him bleed while I stood by and laughed. I took a deep breath and forced the thought away. I looked down at my hands and saw that they were shaking.

Ben took my hands in his own. "I think I'd better finish up. For a second there, you almost looked like you were gonna slit my throat."

"I don't know what happened. The doctor told me to take it easy but I guess I was just trying to do too much, that's all."

"I understand, kiddo. For someone who's never done this before, you didn't do a bad job. Never nicked me once." He gave me a smoldering look. "Now it's your turn."

I blinked in surprise. "What?"

"You shaved me, now it's my turn to shave you."

"You want to shave my legs? But I already did that this morning."

"I was thinking I could shave your pussy. Make it smooth, you know?"

My jaw dropped in shock and I couldn't answer him. I felt a flush that spread over my entire body and I was sure that even my ears were red. When I lived in that whorehouse, there were plenty of the younger women who shaved themselves; we had many customers who wanted to fantasize they were fucking little girls.

Having my husband shave me was extremely arousing. But I felt fear as I imagined the injury I would sustain if his hand slipped even a little bit…I gulped.

Ben saw the look on my face. "I promise I won't hurt you, kiddo. But I understand if you don't wanna let me do it."

The more I thought about it, the more I felt myself getting wet. Ever since I started puberty the year before my mom died, the hair between my legs was as thick as a jungle. Ben had never complained about it, but I'm sure my hair couldn't have been easy to deal with. Yet he never complained. Shaving myself was the least I could do for him, considering he went down on me so often.

"Having it shaved off might be fun, just be careful, okay?" Now it was my turn to blush.

"I will."

"Where do you want me?"

"On your back on any surface in this apartment," Ben growled, "but to answer your question, I think the bed will be the best place. I'll grab a towel and more cream and meet you there."

I scampered off and did as I was told. I lay on the bed, fearing yet anticipating what was going to happen next. Ben came back and put the towel under my butt.

"Spread your legs and put your feet on the bed," he said, kneeling over me. I twitched when I felt Ben's thumbs part my pussy lips. Ben chuckled at the state of my soaked core but didn't say anything. He slid his fingers down my wet slit and I moaned. I spread my legs wider and dug my fingernails into the bedspread.

"Keep still," he said.

"I'm trying but it's so hard!"

"Ain't that the truth," Ben growled. I dared a look down and saw that he had a huge hard-on. It seemed that this was as arousing to him as it was to me. I was tempted to giggle but barely managed to suppress myself. When he put the lather on my hot pussy, I couldn't help but squirm.

"I'm serious, kiddo, stop moving."

"I'm trying, but the cream is freezing!" I whined. When I felt the cold steel of the straight razor blade touch my skin, I froze into complete immobility, hardly daring even to breathe. He began at the widest patch, the part the forms the top of the 'V' of a woman's pubic hair. He used even, flowing strokes to remove this hair and I was now bare to the top of my slit. Now comes the hard part, I thought. Ben spread my legs further apart and shaved from my inner thighs inwards to my pussy lips. From time to time, he wiped my pubic area with a damp towel.

"Need to see what I'm doin'," he said when I asked him about this. "I also need to get you dry. Your cunt is so wet right now, I don't think I'll need to use any more shaving cream."

I didn't doubt him. While I was forcing my body into absolute stillness as he shaved me, the heat pooled between my legs. My cunt ached. My cunt throbbed. And I was helpless to do anything about it. My breathing became heavier. When I felt Ben's hot breath on my overheated pussy as he took a break and examined his progress with his fingers and mouth, I curled my toes in anticipation and moaned.

"Please…I need to come, Ben. I can't take this—"

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna leave you high and dry. You're just gonna have to be patient."

"Hurry," I whispered.

One final stroke of the blade and he was done. "There," he said. "Sit up and see for yourself."

I looked down and saw how bare I was but I was more interested in touching myself. I slid my fingers down my slit, delighting in how soft the skin was. "I'm completely smooth," I said in awe.

"Yeah, you sure are," Ben said.

There was something in his tone that made me look over at him. His eyes were half-closed and darkened by lust and when he spoke, his voice was deep and gravelly.

"Touch yourself, Sherry."

I lay back down on the bed, and my eyes never left his face. I parted my lips and slid my index finger over my clit. Ben's eyes were glued on my cunt and what my fingers were doing. By this time, my juices had the consistency of honey and it was thick enough to wrap around my finger a few times.

Deciding to give him a real peep show, I put my finger in my mouth and licked it clean, as if it were the sweetest ambrosia. I did it again with the other hand, but I did it very slowly, heightening his pleasure and mine. His gaze was hungry and he followed every move of my fingers as I played with myself to the moment I licked my fingers clean. Watching his eager and yearning expression was like watching a child wistfully looking through a store window at candy they couldn't have. Ben was panting now, breathing deeply through his mouth. When he spoke, his voice creaked. "Let me…I want to taste you. I need to taste you."

With one quick movement, Ben was on the bed and lying between my legs. I gasped when I felt his mouth touch me. With all the hair gone, the sensation of the skin of his face touching the skin of my pussy was amazing. I heard him growl in pleasure and slurp at my juices noisily—the sound was so erotic, I couldn't help from whimpering. He chuckled and lifted his head to get some air. "I'm just makin' sure I got all the shaving cream off. You don't mind, do you?"

"Just be sure you get into every nook and cranny," I replied in a teasing tone.

"That's what I intend on doin'," Ben said, licking his lips. From the light that came from the nightstand lamp, I could see my juices were smeared from his nose down to his chin. "Uh-oh, I think I missed a spot." He dove back down and I arched my back when his hot mouth encircled my clit. He had done so much teasing; I knew it wouldn't be long before I came. I grabbed his head and forced it down hard between my legs. I opened my mouth and I'm sure the neighbours thought someone was murdering me from my screaming and shrieking.

When I came down from my orgasm, my arms and legs felt like rubber. Ben continued licking me but even though my clit was extremely sensitive, his mouth and tongue felt soothing. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to drift off and fall asleep but after my husband spent so much time on satisfying my needs, it was only fair that I do the same for him.

"Lay beside me," I whispered. "Let me take care of you."

Ben did as I asked and stretched his long length beside me on the bed. "Nah, that's all right, kiddo. You can go to sleep."

I reached down and stroked him through his still-open zipper. "Are you sure you want me to do that?" I caressed him just the way he liked it and he moaned. "Tell me what you really want." I continued touching him and he let his head fall back on the pillows.

"I want…Oh God, Sherry, I want your mouth on me. Please?"

I moved my body down so I could suck him off. I eased his pants down and threw them on the floor. His cock was standing at full attention, straining hard against the fabric of his shorts. There was a dark stain on them where his pre-cum had leaked, and I put my mouth on him through the material.

He groaned and thrust his hips upward. Using my teeth, I pulled down the waistband of his underwear. When they were around his ankles, I buried my face in his groin, savouring the smell of his skin and pubic hair.

"Hurry," Ben whispered.

"Patience is a virtue," I teased.

"You're a cocktease, you know that?" Ben growled.

Now it was my turn to chuckle in smugness. "Now you know what I was feeling. Payback's a bitch, huh?"

"Christ!" Ben howled when I put my mouth over the mushroom head of his shaft. With my lips, I squeezed out drops of his pre-cum from the tip. He groaned in disappointment when I took my mouth off of him. I lowered my face until my tongue was at the base of his shaft. I slowly licked my way up his cock as if it were a lollipop and I felt his dick twitch as I did so.

I turned my head and nibbled at his balls, being careful not to hurt the tender sacs inside. Ben grasped my hair and shoved my head against his cock. I relaxed my throat so I didn't gag when I deep throated him. My tongue brushed against the head of his cock and to do something a little different, I grated my teeth against his skin. Ben hissed sharply but I knew he was loving every minute of this exquisite torture. Payback's a bitch, indeed.

His hips thrust and he went further into my mouth. I sucked him off with gusto and I could tell that he was going to come soon. He grabbed a handful of my hair; this was so reminiscent of a dim, half-remembered memory, that I was frightened. I whimpered in fear, it was a small sound but even over his grunts and groans, Ben heard me. He released his grip and I breathed easier.

My hand dipped between his legs as I touched his balls. In his fully aroused state, a few more thrusts and he screamed his release and came in my mouth. I swallowed every drop of his semen eagerly. Even after his orgasm was over, I kept my mouth on him. I reciprocated his gentleness on me and just as I had, he came down slowly. When he was completely soft again, I nestled in his arms.

"You're not gonna tell Gert, are you?" Ben asked.

"I won't if you won't," I promised. My husband and I were back together again. I knew I did not have to worry about him drinking any more. He had me in his corner and would have no further need for liquid courage.


	17. The PartyPart One

The Party: Part One

Disclaimer: I'm not making any money from this, blah blah blah.

Author's Note: To RomRomz, I'm sorry I didn't get around to reading your stories yet but I will, I promise.

lll

Almost every day I expected to hear something from Richard but I didn't. He never came over and he never called. I don't know if I was disappointed or relieved in not hearing from him. Like everyone else who knew about my marriage, I guess he thought Ben and I had been away on our honeymoon.

Because he was so large and naturally intimidating, Ben didn't have to do much except stand at the Don's side and look menacing. In his pressed and tailored suit and dark glasses, no sane person would want to get on his bad side. To add to his fearsome appearance, Ben started cracking his knuckles and growling. As a result, the Don found that as a direct result of hiring Ben, more people were willing to pay their debts on time and not quibble about paying the triple digit interest rates he charged. However, there were still a few who needed to be persuaded and Ben had been forced to use his fists and brawn to get his point across. Many times, I had had to wash his white shirts repeatedly just to get the bloodstains out. Ben was never injured and I thought it best if I didn't know whose blood it was. My stomach churned on laundry day when I went through the pockets of his suit and found a pair of bloodied brass knuckles.

Still, when he came home at night, I could tell that Ben preferred his old job with Roarke.

"I never had to do half the stuff for the Senator that I gotta do for the Don," Ben would grumble. "I just thought I'd have to guard the guy, ya know, I never thought I'd have to beat up people."

However unpleasant working for the Mob was, the money was certainly better. Don Battaglio was very generous with his employees who served him well. Sometimes Ben would come home with an expensive gold necklace or bracelet for me and once he had come home with a luscious fur coat. I accepted the gifts even though Ben and I both knew that they were stolen. But the money was so good, we figured that in just a couple of months, we'd be able to put a good down payment on our first house.

The one thing I did not like about Ben's new employment was that there usually was an all-night poker game one or two nights a week. He'd come home at dawn, reeking from the smell of cigars and brandy.

Of course, Ben saw Richard almost on a daily basis and I was always afraid of the repercussions, but every time I asked Ben about it, he'd say that the urge to put his hands from going around Richard's neck was lessening. I wasn't sure if he was joking or not but I decided to stop asking.

As for me, the time came when I was fully healed and had no excuse to stay inside any longer. As luck would have it, when I finally was able to go out again, Richard was the first person I ran into. I was tempted to duck into a nearby store but he saw me.

"May I kiss the bride?" Richard asked, a broad smile on his face. Before I could stop him, he leaned down and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Chaste though it may seem to anyone who was watching, it was far from that. His lips lingered on my skin, his hot mouth against my ear. He groaned and I heard his breath hitch in his throat. He put his hands on my shoulders and looked me up and down. "Hmm," he said with a frown, "You look very pale. What's wrong?"

"I'm fine," I said stiffly. A smart man like Richard would be able to see through my answer in a second. And judging from the skeptical look I saw on his face, that was exactly the case.

"Fine? I don't think so. You've got dark circles under your eyes and you look like hell. Does that Neanderthal you married let you sleep at all? Or does he keep you up at all hours?" Richard winked at me.

Anger surged through me and I yanked myself out of Richard's hands. "Ben is _not_ a Neanderthal! How dare you say that?"

"Ben is a possessive man. Now that you are his wife, I thought that he wouldn't let you out of his sight. I haven't seen you out and about for almost a month now. I was beginning to think that something had happened to you." His eyes became cold and flinty. "I even considered checking the hospitals…"

My mouth was so dry, I couldn't even swallow. Richard was such a good interrogator, I knew that if he put his mind to it, he could weasel the whole truth out of me without any effort. He was closer to the truth than he knew. The only thing I could do at this point was change the subject. "You've seen Ben. I know you play poker together."

"He looks at me as if he'd like to tear my head off. However, since he's been losing quite a lot of money, I guessed that that was the reason he's so angry."

I was tempted to tell Richard that Ben had seen pictures of Richard with his head between my legs but decided not to. It was our business, not his.

"For a man to lose as often as he has, it's almost as if he has something on his mind. Something big. What aren't you telling me, Sherry?"

"N--nothing. It's nothing."

"Bullshit. The two of you aren't acting like honeymooners at all."

"What are you talking about?"

Richard smiled and I felt a shudder go through me. Looking at him was like looking at a shark that was about to take a bite out of a tasty meal but didn't know where to start feasting. "If you were, you wouldn't let him go to our poker games, that's why. He has stayed out all night several times now. Normal newlyweds do not leave each other's side for a moment for the first couple of months or so. What's he done to you?"

I was so flustered at this point, I didn't know what to say. Or what _not_ to say. "He is a good man…he didn't mean to…" I forced myself to shut my mouth before I said anything incriminating. I felt tears start to brim in my eyes. I had seen the worst side of the man who was my husband but in order to keep him safe from retribution for his own actions, I had to think of something. Fast.

I angrily wiped the tears from my eyes. "With Ben's new job and me catching up with my schoolwork and the wedding, it's just been a hectic time for me recently and I got overwhelmed."

Without a word, Richard took me in his arms and held me so close that my breasts were crushed against his chest. His hand was gently stroking my back. His voice was low and hoarse as he comforted me. "That's all right, Sherry. You can relax now. I'll always take care of you."

I remembered the words he spoke to me that night when he said that I shouldn't marry Ben but him instead. Gert had said that Richard loved me. However, I could never return that love. I was a married woman now. I paid a painful price for succumbing to my baser urges. I would not do that again. I braced my hands against his chest and pushed him away. It would be very unwise if I made this powerful man my enemy and I knew had to diffuse the situation. "I'm a married woman now, Richard," I said in as teasing a tone as I could manage. "I belong to Ben." I waved my wedding ring under his nose. "See?"

Richard scoffed. "I could have bought you a diamond as big as your thumbnail and not thought twice."

My spine stiffened at the slur he cast upon Ben's state of finances. "There's nothing wrong with the ring I have."

Richard shrugged, his eyes narrowing in displeasure at my rebuff. "If you say so. However, I have to tell you that you belong to no one. You are your own woman, a person with rights."

"And copping a feel is Ben's right, _not_ yours." I shook my finger at Richard playfully and was about to say something flippant but after the seeing the angry scowl that twisted Richard's handsome face, I decided it would be better if I kept my mouth shut. To say he was pissed off was putting it mildly.

"I had to admit I was surprised when I heard you got married in a JOP's office. No church wedding, no invitation. I was hurt that you didn't ask me to give you away…but what's done is done. By the way, I know you didn't have a reception or anything to celebrate your marriage. How about I throw you a nice big party?"

"Sure," I said, giving my best effort to smile. "We'd like that. Where and when?"

"My house on Saturday night. It'll be formal attire. I'll have my driver pick you up around eight. I know a couple of fellows who can provide some music for dancing. But I claim the right to dance with you, all right?"

"Okay. We'll be there. Richard? Can I ask you a teensy favour?"

Richard turned around and he was all smiles again. "For you, Sherry, I'll do anything."

"About the guest list…"

"Yes?"

"Would it be all right if I ask you if Gertrude Williams can come? And John Hardigan?"

Richard's face dropped. "Why?"

I shrugged. "I'd just like to know someone there, that's all. If it's too much to ask…"

"No, it's no problem. I'll find out her address. And I'll ask that cop to come as well."

As he turned and walked away, I knew that he hadn't bought the flimsy excuse I gave for my tears and run-down appearance. Not for a minute. He was the best lawyer in Sin City; he could tell when someone was not telling him everything.

lll

Ben slammed the phone down. "Goddamn it!"

"What's wrong?"

"The Don needs me to work tonight, can you fucking believe it? He knows damn well that we were supposed to go to that shindig at Rich's place and what does the bastard do? There's a guy who won't pay up. So the Don wants me to work him over. Shit!"

I put my hand on Ben's. "It'll be all right. I can stay home until you're done and we can go to the party together."

Ben shook his head. "No, we can't do that. The party is in our honour; one of us has to be there. Sorry to have to do this to you, kid, but you have to go. I'll go to the party as soon as I'm done."

I bit my lip and stared at my hands that were in my lap. The last thing I wanted to do was go by myself. I cheered up a little when Ben kissed me. His mouth sought mine and I kissed him ravenously. It seemed like it had been forever since we'd made love. On the day that I met Richard, I tried to tempt Ben but he held me off, saying that for my safety, it would be best if we waited a few extra days just to be sure.

Ben pulled me into his lap, and I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me to the bedroom. He placed me on the bed and leaned over me but made no move to remove either his clothes or mine. He cupped my face in his hand and I felt him trembling as I drew him into my arms.

"What's wrong?" I whispered.

"I don't know if I can do this," Ben replied.

"Why not?"

"I don't want to hurt you; God knows, I've done too much of that."

"If you go slowly, I'll be fine. I want you, Ben. I need to be loved by my husband."

"I do love you, Sherry. I want you to know how sorry I am. For hurting you and making you lose…Aw, jeez." With the palm of his hand, Ben clumsily wiped away the tears that had slid from his pale blue eyes.

I took his hand away and brought my lips to his glistening cheek, tasting his grief. "Make love to me, Ben. Please?" I could have tricked him into submission to my demand by putting my hand inside his shorts, caressing his dick until he was hard. But I vowed that I wasn't going to use Ben's own body against him. That was precisely what Richard had done to me. As much as I wanted Ben to fuck me, I wasn't going to stoop to Richard's level and use dirty tricks to get what I wanted. I was going to play fair. If it turned out that Ben didn't want me, I would accept it.

I waited on tenterhooks while he considered it. I whimpered when Ben drew me into his arms. My arms went around his powerful shoulders and we held each other close. I felt myself coming back to life when Ben kissed me. When he bit down on the sensitive part between my neck and shoulders, I moaned in pleasure.

Ben withdrew and looked me in the eyes. "I missed hearing that sound," he said. "Hell, I just plain missed you, Sherry."

"I missed being with you too," I said. "The bed has been so empty without you."

Ben got to his feet and began removing his clothes. When he was naked as I was, he turned around and as I stared at his erection, I felt myself tremble in fear. The last time we were intimate, he had violated me in every fuckable hole that I possessed. My mouth went dry. What if he tore open my stitches? What if he hurt me again? What if—

Ben saw the look on my face. "I won't hurt you, Sherry. The second you tell me I am, I'll stop. I promise."

I wasn't so sure. Too many times, I'd had men tell me something similar—that if they were hurting me, they would stop. However, when they came, all they did was clutch me closer and thrust inside of me faster and harder.

But Ben was my husband, not a john, and I trusted him.

Ben lay beside me on the bed. Starting at my shoulders, he gave me a massage. His gnarled hands were firm yet gentle and I found that I liked what he was doing. Gradually my fears eased and I became relaxed. I also found it erotic and when he was done, I reached down and felt between my legs. I was surprised at the amount of wetness I found there. I brought my fingers up and saw how they glistened in the light.

I looked up and saw that Ben's eyes were half-closed with desire as he watched me play with myself. I started to wipe my fingers on the sheet when Ben spoke.

"Let me do that."

He took one finger in his mouth and licked it clean, his hot tongue swirling around my fingers, until my juices were gone. He repeated the process on my middle finger. I had no idea licking fingers could be so erotic! "There's a lot more where that came from," I said.

"Mmm…play with yourself for me, Sherry. I want to watch you give yourself pleasure."

I didn't have any objection. I realized it was probably a good idea if I masturbated before he fucked me, my pussy would be wet and open for him. It had been a long time since I played with myself but I hadn't forgotten how. In fact, I found that I liked it even more with someone watching.

With my index and middle finger of my left hand, I reached down found my clit. I moved my fingers into position and almost immediately, my clit was swollen. I moved my right hand up to my breast, teasing my nipple with my fingernails until it was hard. I stifled a moan by biting my lip.

"Don't hold yourself back. I want to hear the noises you make."

I don't know what came over me but I reached down, took a broad swipe of my wetness, and smeared it generously over both nipples.

Ben moved up until he was beside me. He took a nipple into his mouth and licked it clean. An electric jolt of pure lust went straight to my clit. He teased my breast and nipple with his tongue and teeth; suckling me as if he was gathering sustenance.

I did not stifle the groan of pleasure that I was getting from his mouth and my hand. I opened my eyes to find Ben's blue eyes riveted on mine.

"I liked hearing that. Now I want to watch your face when you come," he said.

I was so horny at this point that I hardly heard his words but I nodded anyway. My breath was coming in small gasps. My climax was approaching fast and I could feel my toes curl in anticipation. Goosebumps from performing this very personal act in front of my husband made me shiver. My orgasm was almost upon me now and I could feel my breath hitch in my throat.

"My beautiful bride," Ben crooned in my ear as he held me. "I love you so much." He put his hand over my womb and pushed down hard with his fingers. I didn't find it painful or uncomfortable but before I could ask what he was doing, he explained, "I want to feel the muscles in your cunt move when you come. Come for me, Sherry! Come now!

I arched my back and cried out, my body tightening as waves of pleasure swept over me. I came back to earth to find Ben smiling down at me. His hand brushed over my pussy and tested the wetness. "Now you're ready."

When Ben prepared to enter me, I lay on the bed; all my muscles were so tensed and taut that it was almost painful. I clutched the bedspread in preparation for the pain.

"Easy, Sherry. I'm not gonna hurt you. Relax your body for me. That's better. Now open for me. A bit wider…"

I followed Ben's instructions and tried to relax. I whimpered when I felt his rock-hard cock edge its way between pussy lips. This wasn't going to work, I thought to myself frantically. He's going to rip—

Any other thought I had in my head was gone when I felt Ben bury himself to the hilt inside of me. I gasped from the sensations—it wasn't painful at all, instead it was…nice. For the first time in ages, I was complete again.

Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around Ben's waist. He stayed still inside of me. "Does it hurt?" He asked. Full-blown desire coarsened his voice, making it gravelly and deeper than usual. It was a sound that I missed.

"No. It—it doesn't hurt," I whispered, enthralled.

"Do you want me to pull out?" he asked.

"NO! Stay where you are!" I shrieked. I shifted my hips as best I could under his weight. "I want you, Ben."

Ben did not answer. With a feral growl, he thrust inside of me.

My whimpers now were not full of pain; they were full of desire. Ben moved slowly inside of me. I wanted him to go faster—already I could feel an orgasm starting to build. He drove me insane with his slow, methodical thrusts. My pussy expanded and contracted every tiny, teasing thrust.

"I can you move around me," Ben groaned. "Every movement…God!"

"Please…" I begged. "I'm going to come!"

In that moment, Ben pushed himself faster and deeper. This was exactly what I wanted! I moved my hips against his, counter-thrusting as hard as I could. Ben grunted and groaned with each stroke and I could tell that he was going to come soon too.

I raked my nails down his back and cried out, my orgasm flooding over me, turning me into a shrieking banshee. Ben pumped his huge cock inside of me and with an animalistic roar I had never heard from him before, he shuddered and I could feel his white-hot come filling me to the brim.

We lay together, both panting heavily until the sweat from our bodies began to cool. Both of us were completely drained; neither of us had the strength or inclination to move.

The perfect moment was spoiled less than a minute later when Ben looked at the clock.

"You gotta get ready for the party."

I didn't want to go but I had no choice. Richard had told me it was going to be formal evening wear. That meant he'd probably pulled out all the stops. I couldn't disappoint him. I tried to cheer myself up when I remembered that Ben said he'd come as soon as he could. I got out of bed and padded to the bathroom. I looked over my shoulder at Ben. "I'm going to take a shower. Why don't you come too? We'll save water."

Ben grinned wolfishly and eagerly bounded to his feet. "Damn straight I'll come." He went in first and fiddled with the taps until the water was just the right temperature. "After you, madam," he said with a flourish, holding open the shower curtain. It was a tight squeeze but we both managed to fit inside. That didn't matter to me as I figured we wouldn't be in there long anyway.

I giggled when Ben grabbed the wrong bar of soap. It was one of mine, and the smell of lilacs soon filled the shower.

"Now I'm gonna smell like a goddamn flower garden," Ben grumbled.

"I think your masculinity can take it," I joked.

"I dunno. If any of the guys find out about this, I'm never gonna live it down."

"If they give you a hard time, just growl at them. That'll scare them from saying anything."

"Ain't that the truth," Ben said, as he held up a soap-laden washcloth. "Now, which part of your body needs washing the most?"

I spread my legs. "I think you can figure that one out. If you need a hint, it's the part of me that's been the most busy tonight."

Ben smirked. "I didn't hear no complaints." Because he was so tall, he knelt down in front of me. "Someone's getting wet," he commented, reaching out and touching my dripping pussy. "And not because of the water, either. Now what should I do about that, huh? I've got an idea."

Without any effort, Ben hoisted me up until my legs were around his neck and my back was against the cool ceramic tile.

"Now you're just the right height for what I wanna do to you," he said smugly. "I've only had a small taste of pussy juices today and I've developed a hell of a craving."

I draped my legs over his broad shoulders and gasped when he inched me closer to his mouth. Because I had had two mind-blowing orgasms that day, I didn't think I would be able to have a third. But my body had other ideas.

His mouth left a scorching trail from the top of my slit to the bottom. Because Ben had shaved my pussy and I was now as bare as an eleven-year-old girl, the slight stubble of his face rasped against the delicate skin of my inner thighs and pussy lips. But I never wanted him to stop. All four walls of the bathroom were filled with the sounds of my rising bliss as Ben teased and tormented me to near madness. It was all I could do to stay where I was; because Ben had a brush cut, I was forced to grab his ears and hang on for dear life. His face was buried so far into my cunt, he was breathing through it.

"OH GOD!" I writhed and my entire body shuddered as I came in Ben's mouth. My heels drummed into Ben's back. I barely heard him groan in appreciation as he happily lapped up my sweet juices.

It was a minute or so before I was able to stand upright again without my knees giving out.

"Now that you're done, I'll need to be washed off too," Ben said.

"Before I wash it, I have to get it wet first," I said, going to my knees. Ben's cock was already hard and I couldn't resist teasing him.

"How did this happen? I haven't touched you yet."

"Watching and hearing you come always makes me hard," he answered. He dug a finger into his ear. "And deaf for a couple of minutes afterward."

"Smart ass," I said, giving his tight ass a good hard slap. I took Ben's erect cock in my mouth. He groaned and ran his hand through my hair. I took his balls in my hands and stroked them, just the way he liked. Ben groaned deeper and if my mouth hadn't been pleasurably occupied at the time, I would have smirked at his reaction.

"Damn it, kiddo, you are so fucking good at this," Ben said throatily.

I could feel Ben's knees start to shake and I put on hand on each knee and pushed to steady him so he wouldn't topple over. Like I had done with him, he grabbed my ears and held on for the ride. I relaxed my throat muscles so I wouldn't gag on his massive length. His balls tightened and I knew he was reaching his climax. With a groan and a shout, he came and I eagerly swallowed every drop of come he had to give.

I knew that as much as I wanted to, I couldn't linger in shower with Ben. We both had to get ready. I took his hand and pulled him out of our snug, warm cocoon where we shared our love for a time.

I turned away when I saw Ben put his brass knuckles into his jacket pocket. "I hope you don't have to use those," I said.

Ben sighed. "Trust me, kiddo, I don't use 'em unless I absolutely gotta. I'm only bringing them because the Don said that the guy I'm meetin' tonight might be a tough one. Just in case, though, I'm bringing Matilda."

"You're not going to kill him, are you?"

"Please don't look at me like that, Sherry." Ben came over and held me. "I hate what I hafta do for a livin'. And I wish I'd never left Roarke. As hard as workin' for Roarke was, it wasn't nearly so bad as what I'm doin' now."

I could tell Ben was getting upset—when he got upset, he tended to drop his g's, and his grammar went back to a Grade 4 level.

"Just hurry, OK? I don't like the idea of going to Richard's alone."

"And I don't like it that I can't be there with you and keep an eye on him. But I'll come when I can."

Ben had just bent his head to kiss me when the doorbell rang. The limousine driver that Richard had sent had arrived. It was time to go. I brightened. With Gert and John there, at least Ben and I would have someone to talk to.

End Part One


	18. The PartyPart Two

The Party--Part Two

Author's Note: Only the first page of this chapter is the same as the old one—after thinking about it for a couple of days, I realized that what I submitted was not how I wanted the story to proceed. This is the real story arc I wanted to pursue.

A big shout out to khandieclarke who gave me good, sound feedback on which way to go. Thank you!

lll

Because of the pleasurable dallying Ben and I had engaged in while in the shower, I did not have a lot of time to get ready. However, I put a lot of effort into applying my makeup; Richard had gone to a lot of trouble for this party and I was determined to look my best. As I stared at my reflection, one thing was certain: I sure as hell did not look fifteen years old anymore.

I smoothed my hair back and frowned. No matter what I did, my hair had that "just tumbled out of bed after hot sex" look. I hoped no one would suspect the truth--that I _did _just tumble out of bed after hot sex.

The closer it came to when the driver would be picking me up, the more I dreaded going. The worst part of upper class society was making an entrance. In such events like these, everyone would stop talking when the guest of honour arrived and instantly all the women in the room would scan the new arrival's appearance: her hair, dress, and shoes would be scrutinized—looking for a hair out of place or if there was the slightest hint of a wrinkle in her dress.

I took dubious comfort in the fact that my dress was almost too tight to wrinkle. My strapless, form-fitting dress was almost identical to that worn by the recently crowned Princess Grace of Monaco from the movie _To Catch a Thief_ except that mine was red. I had chosen it because of the colour—scarlet dress for a scarlet woman. It was no use pretending that I hadn't been a prostitute. In fact, there was a good chance that I had fucked a few of the men who were attending this party.

"Jones, take care of her for me, will you?" Ben asked. "I'll see you both later. Hopefully, the guy I'm meetin' won't take too long to pay up."

Jones nodded and indicated that we should leave. We chitchatted about different things and before I knew it, we were outside the building. The limo was parked outside the apartment main doors and Brown was our driver.

"I didn't want to say anything while Ben was there, but you look gorgeous," Jones said, gallantly opening the limo door for me.

"Thanks," I said, grateful for his compliment. I settled myself in the back seat. "I could say the same about you." Jones was dressed in a tuxedo and the cut of his suit across his broad shoulders emphasized what a great body he had. "If I wasn't married…." I winked at him.

I fell silent as Richard's house came into view from the limousine's windows. It was a mansion, three stories high and made of brick. The car passed through a gate and followed a long curved driveway. There was a long line of luxury cars waiting to unload their occupants—the women were all wearing designer gowns. Mine had come from a retail store. Not only that, the women were all weighed down with expensive gems and diamonds that twinkled at their ears, throats, and fingers. The men were in formal eveningwear as well, all of them wearing tuxedos and polished shoes. I closed my eyes and groaned. How could I ever compete with these people?

"Don't let these fat cats here get you down, Sherry. You're every bit as good as they are," Jones said.

"No, I'm not. I've fucked some of them for money, remember?"

Jones leaned closer to me. "So have I. You'd be surprised if I told you some of the names of the men that have paid to suck my cock."

"And I could tell you stories of successful men in this town who like to be whipped and spanked."

Both of us laughed at the thought of how many powerful people we could destroy between us if we chose. I felt a little better and I held my head high as I exited the car and walked with my hand gently resting on Jones' arm to the massive front entrance.

I wish I had thought to put on a more modest dress. I felt as naked as a harem slave girl on auctioning block because the smoldering stares I was getting from the men. I had been correct—some of them I had slept with.

As Jones and I got closer to the ballroom, I heard rock and roll piano music. Most preachers were warning their congregations about rock and roll, calling it 'the devil's music," and "sinful," but kids my age loved it. When I entered the room, I squealed with delight when I saw who was playing the piano—it was none other than Jerry Lee "The Killer" Lewis. When he had married his child-bride a while ago, his career had taken a downturn. However, his fans gave him a second chance and his career was rocketing back up the charts.

I was also impressed to see who was jamming with The Killer onstage—Chuck Berry. My toes were already tapping. To get the kings of rock and roll to play at my wedding reception was exciting and thrilling beyond words. Richard certainly had a lot of influence!

My host was waiting for me and when I took his hand, he kissed me on the cheek. "Well, I said I knew some fellows who could provide some music, didn't I?"

"You certainly did! Thank you!" Impulsively, I gave him a hug.

"For you, Sherry, I'd do anything," his lips were against my ear and I heard his breath catch for a moment. When I pulled away, there was an expression in his eyes that I didn't understand. Richard smiled at me. He was holding several well-padded white envelopes and he gave them to my escort. "Jones, put these on my desk in the study, will you? It's my turn to have Sherry to myself for a while."

Jones nodded and left. I looked at Richard in puzzlement. "Those were envelopes that contain your wedding gifts," he explained, guiding me to the receiving line. "I saw what they gave you—you did very well. Now it's time to meet and greet and thank those people."

lll

Once the meet-and-greet ordeal was over, the dancing started. I found that as soon as I sat down to recover from one dance, another man would appear and ask me. I danced with the mayor, several city council members, judges—almost every man who had some power in Sin City held me in his arms that night. I did get some relief because every once in a while, either Jerry Lee or Chuck would play something slower. And it was only these dances that Richard claimed. I didn't mind—it was nice to be able to catch my breath, even if only for a few minutes. He took me in his arms and I leaned against his body, grateful for the respite.

After our dance, he led me over to the terrace. The breeze felt delicious on my skin. There was no one else outside so we had complete privacy. He gave me a glass of champagne and I so was thirsty from dancing that I drank it down in two big swallows. Richard said nothing but as soon as I had finished one glass, he was handing me another. I had never had champagne before and after chugging down my third glass, I found myself getting a little tipsy. The bubbles tickled my nose and since I hadn't had anything to eat for hours, the alcohol went straight to my head.

"You know, I can't wait for Ben to get here so I can dance with him. Do you know what we've never danced together?"

I saw Richard frown. Even in my inebriated state, it looked as if he was mad for me saying that. When he took my arm and suggested that we retire to his study to talk and relax, I accepted his offer gratefully. I giggled as I stumbled along—after all that I had drunk, I realized that it is impossible for a woman to walk in a straight line wearing five-inch high heels.

I fell onto the sofa, barely missing ending up on the floor on my ass. I laughed at the sight I must have presented. Richard stood in front of me. "Sherry, we have to talk."

"Sure. Whatever," I replied woozily. My head was spinning and I leaned back. I heard him walk to his desk and back again. Richard chuckled and I heard the heels of his Italian leather shoes click in a quick, staccato rhythm when he came back. I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and sleep. "I'm sorry, I am so drunk…"

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. I also opened the doors a bit to let some fresh air in, I hope you don't mind."

The cool air felt good across my hot flesh and I murmured my appreciation. Through a champagne-induced haze, I felt Richard's hands touch my hair before he leaned me back across the sofa arm. My eyes popped open in shock when he was lying on top of me.

"What're you doing?" I said, my words slurring.

"I need you, Sherry." His lips touched mine and he kissed me with growing passion. He took my hand in his and brought it down to his groin where I felt his hard cock straining against the front of his pants. "You see what you do to me?" he whispered. "Every time I'm close to you, I get a hard on. Do you have any idea how many times I've had to jerk off because of you?"

"No, don't do this," I protested, trying to push him away. But I couldn't –he was big and sober and I was small and hopelessly drunk.

"I want you, Sherry. And I'm going to take you," Richard growled. "But I want you to see something first. Open this." He handed me a manila envelope and when I opened it, I saw that it was full of negatives. I raised them to the light to see the images….and immediately I wished I hadn't. They were negatives of the pictures that had been sent to Ben on our wedding night. I threw them on the floor.

"How did you get these from the Senator?"

"I didn't. They are mine."

"It can't be….was it you…?"

"Yes. I hired the photographers, not Roarke."

"Oh God…_Why_?" I was so stunned, I couldn't think. Richard was the one who was responsible for the pictures, not Roarke! Because of his actions, I lost my baby. One thing was certain: any feelings I had towards the richly dressed man in front of me were gone. I had been so blind; until this moment, I never imagined the scope and depth of the hatred Richard had felt for Ben.

Richard sighed. "It was the only way I could think of to set you free so we could get married. I sent the pictures of us to Ben on your wedding night. I was hoping that after he saw them, he would ask you for a divorce…I never imagined in my worst nightmare that he'd rape you. For that, Sherry, I am very sorry. Why didn't you tell me that Ben raped you?"

"I—I don't know what you're talking about…." I was too drunk to dodge Richard's vicious backhanded slap. I touched my stinging cheek, unable to believe what he had just done. "Hey!"

"Shut up! Don't you ever _fucking_ lie to me again! I know that Ben raped you and you lost the baby."

I was afraid but the steel came back to my spine. "So? I didn't tell you because it was none of your goddamn business, that's why."

"It is my business if the baby was mine!"

"It could have been yours. I was only six weeks along and I was still at Momma's when I got pregnant, the father could have been anyone." I could feel tears start to form in my eyes.

I looked at Richard and saw that he had taken off his dinner jacket and was loosening his tie. Looking at the expression on his face as well as the prominent bulge in his pants that there was no question in my mind about what was going to happen next. I knew I had to prevent it any way that I could.

"Help me! Somebody help me!" I yelled, frantically trying to make myself heard over the shouts and cheers that were coming from the ballroom. I doubted that anyone could hear me—the music so loud, I could feel the floor vibrate.

Richard smirked and jerked his head toward the door. "Even if someone could hear you, they wouldn't be able to help. You see, Jones and Brown are guarding the door. They have their orders. No one is to come in and no one except me goes out. That door doesn't open unless I say so."

I desperately writhed and twisted my body in an attempt to get free but Richard used his weight to keep me down. The walls echoed with the sound of his amusement. "Your struggles are only making my cock harder. I've always loved your spirit, Sherry. So fiery, so lively. When I'm with you, I feel like a young man again."

This wasn't happening. This _couldn't_ be happening. With a desperate heave, I shoved Richard away and I sprawled to the floor in the most unladylike fashion. As fast as I could, I got to my feet and lurched to the door.

"If you open that door, Ben is a dead man."

I stopped dead in my tracks. _"What?!"_

"If you don't come back and sit down, I'm going to tell John Hardigan where he can find Tom Dekker's body."

I still stood there, gawking drunkenly at him. The terseness of his next words caught me by surprise. "Come back here. _Now_!"

Once I was seated next to him again, Richard smacked me across the face with the back of his hand hard enough to make my teeth rattle. "When I tell you to do something, you do it, understand? Now, where was I? Ah, yes. Once Dekker's body is discovered and examined, Ben will be arrested and convicted. And I have the power and connections to make sure that he is executed."

The threat to Ben's life made my head clear. I shook my head, trying to make sense from the insanity that raged within it. How could a night that began so well turn into something so evil? "Even if the lake is dredged and the car brought up, there is no proof that Ben had anything to do with it. None at all."

"That's where you are wrong. Look!" He parted the white cotton folds of the item he had brought back from his desk. With horror, I saw that it was Tom's police-issued flashlight. It was exactly the same as I remembered: dented and bloody. My stomach churned unpleasantly at the sight of it.

"How…how did you get this?" I stammered. The last time I had seen it was when I put it under the kitchen sink. How had Richard gotten a hold of it?

"I had one of the Don's men go through your apartment when you saw Ben off just before his trip to Korea."

A faded and almost forgotten memory hit me. "There was a man waiting around my apartment building when John Hardigan drove me home that day. That was him?"

"Yes, but he was only staking your place out that day. He came back when you were hospitalized and your husband stayed with you constantly. It gave him the chance to go through it with a fine-tooth comb. He found this and brought it to me."

"But that's still not proof."

Richard sighed impatiently but tried to keep from getting angry. "Ben's fingerprints are all over this, Sherry. And I'm no medical expert, but I'm sure that the wounds in your dear dead Uncle Tom's skull will match up to what is on this..."

I couldn't argue so I remained silent. Being a cop's daughter, I was ashamed of myself for forgetting something as important as fingerprints. I should have washed and wiped the flashlight down when I put it away. If I had, all Richard would have would be a dented, busted flashlight—nothing more.

"Murdering a police officer is a capital crime and in this state, executions are done by the electric chair. During the course of my career, I've had to attend a couple and I'm telling you, it is one of the most excruciating methods of death ever designed by man. I have seen hardened, lifers soil themselves and cry for their mamas to help them. Afterward, the death chamber reeks of burnt flesh. The smell saturates your clothes, skin, and hair. It's a smell you'll never forget."

I knew he was telling the truth. When my father was still alive, he'd had to attend one or two executions himself. I remember him telling my mother the exact same thing when they thought I was asleep. "How can you do this to me? I thought you were my friend!"

"Ever since the moment when we made love for the first time, I've _always_ wanted more to be than a friend to you. But you chose Ben and you showed no sign of ever changing your mind. I was desperate. While he was in Korea, I decided to hire the photographers and stage an intimate scene between us in case I ever needed leverage against you. Out of guilt, you married the brute without any warning. I sent the photographs to Ben on your wedding night, hoping that once he saw them, he'd divorce you and you'd be free to marry me. I never dreamed that he would hurt you the way he did. Never! For that, my love, I am very, very sorry."

He kissed my forehead and nuzzled his face against my cheek. His breathed hitched in his throat and from long experience, I knew he was getting aroused...

"Please don't do this, Richard. Why don't we wait until Ben gets back from his collection job and we can talk then…?"

Richard laughed harshly. "There wasn't any collection job tonight. It was an excuse the Don and I concocted so that the big ape would stay out from under my feet long enough for me to explain the situation and your future duties to me. And right now, the last thing I want to do is _talk_."

His breathing became heavier and when I looked into his eyes, I was shocked to see how full of desire they were. No one, not even Ben, had ever looked at me with such evil, lustful intentions. I shivered and tried to draw away.

"No, no. Never shrink from me, Sherry. Open your heart, or I should say, your legs for me. You may as well do it willingly as I am not going to take 'no' for an answer."

"Leave me alone!"

"Never. Especially since there is nothing you can do to stop me from taking what I want. Let me repeat myself yet again: submit to me or Ben dies."

I felt despair on a level I had never known before. If I did what Richard wanted, Ben would live, if I didn't….a vision of an electric chair—affectionately dubbed 'Old Sparky' by cops--in a darkened room filled my eyes. Ben being strapped to it before thousands of volts of electricity flowed through his body, stopping his big, loving heart. Pennies being placed over his dead blue eyes, closing them forever. Last of all, a coffin being lowered into a grave…

No. At all costs, I couldn't let that happen. If keeping Ben alive meant that I had to spread my legs for Richard, then I would do it. I hiked my dress up until it was bunched around my waist and pulled down my panties. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

Richard's jaw dropped and his eyes popped as he gaped at my shaven pussy. Unable to restrain himself, he touched me, savouring the smoothness. "When did you do this?"

"Does it matter? Are you going to fuck me or what?"

He parted my legs and positioned himself between them. He gently fingered me and found that I was dry. "In time, Sherry, in time. But before I do that, I'm going to get you wet first."

I twitched when he put his mouth on me. There was a warm flush from between my legs and I became aroused. I dug my nails into the leather sofa, desperately willing myself not to enjoy what was happening to me but I couldn't stop it. My body was betraying me in the worst possible way and at the worst possible moment. I hated myself. If Ben knew, he'd be ashamed and hurt that I was responding to what Richard was doing.

He fucked me with his tongue, penetrating deep into me. No one, not even Ben, had ever done this to me. The sensations were indescribable. The hot, wet muscle brought me to the peak of arousal as he undulated his tongue inside of me. It felt like I was being fucked by a snake and I loved it. I clenched my teeth together but I couldn't stop from whimpering.

"Don't make me come," I pleaded but my partner was single-minded in his determination. I knew that further protests were useless; Richard had over forty years experience fucking women and worst of all, he knew better than anyone did on what how to push all my buttons so that my body would respond.

"Unlike that brute who raped you, sex is about both parties receiving and giving pleasure," he said, when he came up for air.

"But I don't want to!"

"Your body does."

He went back down on me. Richard was one of those people who could curl their tongues into a 'U' shape and he used this ability to encircle my clit, bringing me closer to ecstasy. My fingers clawed at his back and shoulders. I never wanted him to stop. All I could think about was what was happening between my legs. Time and space had no meaning. I tottered on the brink of madness before I came crashing down to earth, screaming and writhing, bucking my hips into Richard's mouth. My pleasure filled the four corners of the room.

When I came back to myself, my entire body felt like rubber. I lay on the sofa, unable to move. Tears of shame and humiliation rained unheeded down my cheeks. Richard moved his body back up and kissed me. I tasted myself on his lips but I didn't return the kiss.

I looked away while he undressed nor did I look at him as he lowered himself onto mine. I felt nothing when Richard pushed himself inside of me. "I can feel your pussy expand and contract around my cock," Richard panted in my ear. "God, you feel wonderful…."

I stared at the textured ceiling and counted each thrust. Above the noises of Richard's grunts and groans of pleasure, I heard myself weep. He picked up his pace and drove into me harder. His lips were against the sensitive skin of my neck and shoulder.

"What would your beloved husband think if he could see us now, whore?" He crooned softly, his voice deep and hoarse with lust. He grunted and pumped into me two more times before he climaxed, his cock shuddering and twitching as he shot his hot seed deep inside my cunt.

As our bodies cooled from the autumn breezes that wafted through the open French doors, I whispered the name of the man I loved more than my life itself.

The man on top of me froze and withdrew; I remained in the inelegant position of my legs spread wide. The slurping, sucking sound of a cock leaving a soppy wet pussy filled the room. I opened my eyes and saw my blackmailer glare at me as he pulled on his pants.

"Did you think that I'd ever forget about Ben?" I couldn't help but sneer up into his lined face. The light revealed his age in all its wrinkly, sagging ugliness. "Every time you take me in your bed, it will be Ben's hands touching me, Ben's cock fucking me!"

"I wouldn't advise saying that to me again," he said coldly. "Don't forget I am the one who determines if your husband will live to a ripe old age or not." The phone at his desk shrilly broke the dreadful tension between us. Richard stormed off to answer it, muttering curses under his breath. He listened for a minute then hung up, slamming the phone down with a bang. "Damn!" He took his handkerchief from the breast pocket of his dinner jacket and wiped my juices from his face and groin before tossing the soiled cloth to me. "Clean yourself off and stop leaking all over my fucking sofa. Get dressed and hurry up! The Don will be here in five minutes."

lll

"Ah, so you are the famous Sherry I've heard so much about," Don Battaglio said, extending his hands out to me. I took them and he kissed me once on each cheek in an Old World sort of way. Sheer power radiated from the man like a palpable aura. Even without the custom-made perfectly tailored and pressed clothing, one could tell he was accustomed to command and to having his orders obeyed without hesitation. In every way, he was the boss of a very powerful syndicate of thugs and hoodlums and muscle for hire.

"I'm glad to finally meet you, Don Battaglio," I said demurely.

He instantly put his hand up. "No, you must call me by my given name, Gino."

"Thank you, Gino," I said. I snuck a look at Richard. I could tell he wasn't pleased with the immediate familiarity—apparently, the Mob's number one lawyer wasn't even allowed to call the Don by his Christian name. I stifled the urge to stick out my tongue at him.

"So, you are the bride of Benjamin, yes?"

I raised my eyebrow. Benjamin? I couldn't help but smile. That was Ben's full name but even I didn't call him that. "Yes, I am."

"You are very lovely, my dear," Gino said. "But before we can become better acquainted, I have business to discuss with Richard. I am an old-fashioned man and women have no place in the business of men. You will excuse us? Go dance a little or get yourself something to drink, yes? Tell those two outside to do the same. But you will come back; I have a wedding gift for you."

I did not allow the flare of feminism to spark for very long. Women have no place in the affairs of men, indeed! I nodded and left. I told Jones and Brown about the Don's instructions and grateful to be taken from their guard duties so they could eat something and relieve themselves and they wandered off.

In the ballroom, I stayed on the fringes of the crowd, trying my best to stay out of sight. Fortunately, the finishing touches were being placed on the sumptuous buffet and all the guests were already jockeying for a place in line. No one noticed me. I nibbled on some hors d'oeuvres to settle my stomach but I wasn't hungry; I was just killing time until I had to go back to the study. The last thing I wanted was to see Richard, but as the Don had specifically told me to return, I could not refuse.

lll

As I approached the closed study door, I looked up and down the corridor. No one was around. I've always had a streak of curiosity and with two of Sin City's most powerful men just a few feet away, I might learn something that I could store away for future use. I leaned and put my ear to the heavy oak door. The voices of Richard and Don Battaglio were muffled a little but now that the blaring rock and roll music from the nearby ballroom had finally stopped, I was able to hear what was being said.

"Well, what do you think of her?" Richard asked.

"She is young and strong, she will bear you many beautiful children."

"It's a son that I need; more than one, preferably."

"Why do you like Sherry so much? Why do you go to so much trouble for this girl? She is pretty enough, but the world is filled with millions of beautiful women, my friend. Why her?"

I could hear the shrug in Richard's voice as he answered. "There's something about her…I want her more than any other woman I've ever known. However, before I can have her all to myself, I must get rid of that big buffoon she married for good. Once he's dead, getting her to marry me will not be hard."

"So when will you put everything into motion?" The Don asked.

"Tomorrow. I will arrange for Hardigan to get an anonymous tip regarding the location of a certain cop's body and car. My source at the station tells me that that office has been getting some calls from the Granite Falls police department, regarding Dekker's whereabouts. When I give Hardigan the flashlight and he analyzes the fingerprints, he'll arrest Ben for sure. I suppose we shouldn't be too hard on the idiot—he did us a favour and we now have one less cop to worry about."

Both men laughed heartily. Apparently, the death of a police officer was the funniest joke in the world. My blood boiled and I felt it pounding in my ears. I remembered the frantic calls and pacing that my mother did when my father was working on a particularly dangerous case or in the wrong side of the tracks. I remember other cop's wives standing over the graves of their husbands. My father protected civilians from thugs like the fat Italian and he would be ashamed to learn that I thought he was charming. How many good cops' blood was on his hands, I wondered. How many women and children were widows and fatherless because of him? Angrily I wiped my tears away and put my ear back to the door again.

My next thought turned to the other bastard in the room with him. Richard had no intention of keeping to our agreement—he was going to get Ben killed no matter what!

I wanted to stay and eavesdrop longer but I couldn't risk being spotted. Jones and Brown were due back soon. As quietly as I could, I scurried to a chintz settee not far from the door and pretended to adjust the buckle of my heels.

lll

"Now that we're alone again," Richard whispered seductively, "it's time for us to be together." He buried his face in my hair and groaned. "So young, so sweet…"

"What about your wife? I didn't see her tonight."

"And you won't. This afternoon, I gave her a divorce and a check for one hundred thousand dollars. She won't be coming back."

"But why would you do that? You've been married to her for more than thirty years!"

Richard held my face in his hands and made me look up at him. "I am a powerful man. I have a seven-figure bank balance. I have seven cars in the garage, a house in Miami, and one in Switzerland. However, what I don't have is a son. I have no one to carry on my name and my legacy. Now that I have you in my life, you will give me many children, Sherry."

My insides turned cold at the callous way he had gotten rid of his wife. And he did it all because of me. If he could be cruel, so could I. "I'd rather die than give you a child."

"Oh?" Richard asked. His tone was nonchalant but his eyes were uneasy. "How do you plan on accomplishing that? Getting an abortion in this state is damn near impossible."

I laughed at his naiveté. Sometimes men were so stupid regarding the ways of women. "Shows how much you know. Just because all the lawmakers in this state are men, do they think they can tell us women what we can or cannot do with our own bodies? We do not have to blindly accept it. We have other options. There are plenty of doctors in this city who do abortions on the side if they are paid enough. If all else fails, there is a woman in Old Town who does them for fifty bucks on her kitchen table with a coat hanger. Walk down the right back alley in this town and you can find anything."

For the first time, Richard was at a loss for words. When he did speak, his voice was hoarse. "You'd actually go to a butcher like that and…? You could die!"

"Do you really think that I'd care? Like I said, I'd rather be dead than give birth to any_thing_ of yours." Of course, I would never do that, but Richard would never know. "There was a time when I would have loved to been married to you or give you a child, but not anymore. If I do get pregnant, maybe on the day I plan to get rid of it, I'll call the newspapers so they can have a couple dozen photographers to take my picture afterward. Imagine the headlines: Girlfriend of Sin City's Top Shyster Gets Abortion… Story and pictures on Page 3."

"Just because of that, I'm going to get a lot of pleasure in hurting you tonight,

Sherry." His hands roamed over my body. "Every part of your body is now mine to do with as I please. My tits…" He pinched my nipples until I cried out in pain. He reached out and grabbed my crotch through my dress. "My cunt…" He dug his fingers into my buttocks. "My ass…In fact, I'll think I'll sample it right now. In all the times I've fucked you, I've never had you this way." He turned me around and leaned me over his desk so that he could get into position behind me. He fumbled with his trousers and the metallic zinging sound of his zipper being pulled down filled my ears. He hiked my dress up until it was high enough for his purpose. My panties were thin and lacy and it didn't take much effort for him to rip them from my body. A heartbeat later, they were pooled at my ankles.

"_My tits…My ass...My cunt..." _

On that terrible night, Ben had said those same words to me. Did Richard think that I would just lean over and let him ass-rape me without fighting back? Not if I had anything to say about it! The upper half of my body was face down on the desk. Terror threatened to overwhelm me when I felt Richard part my ass cheeks.

Ben had taught me a few moves in self-defense and as Richard was making the final preparations to sodomize me, I knew it was now or never... I had to get some space between Richard and myself so I could think and breathe and try to think of a way out of this nightmare. I lifted my foot and kicked backward, getting Richard square in the shin with the sharp heel of my stiletto. Richard cried out and moved away.

I whirled around. I didn't think, I just acted. I brought my knee up as hard as I could squarely into Richard's groin. He backed away from me, instinctively doubling over and covering his groin with his arm to protect himself. I followed. Now I was the one with the leverage!

"I heard you joking with the Don. You were going to give John the evidence against Ben tomorrow. You were going to see to it that he was executed."

"How...how did you know?"

It was now _my_ turn to gloat. "I was listening at the door. After Ben was dead, you thought it was going to be easy, didn't you? That I'd be so overcome with grief that I would marry you?"

"Little girls shouldn't listen at keyholes," Richard said, his expression darkening. He was standing up straighter now. "They might hear things they shouldn't."

Under normal circumstances, I would normally be afraid of how angry and violent Richard could get but now I was the one getting mad. But I underestimated Richard. He slapped me hard across the face and I stumbled, hitting my chin on the corner of his desk. I tried to break my fall and my arms slid over his desk, making everything fall to the floor with me. I lay on the ground, dazed, showered with papers and the other desktop items that were now on either side of me.

Fat though he was, Richard was on top of me in an instant, straddling my hips. "I am going to enjoy this, Sherry," he snarled as he moved so that his hips were between my knees. I turned my head to look to see if anything I knocked on the floor could be used as a weapon. There was an ivory letter opener close to my right shoulder. Richard was too busy trying to stroke himself to be hard enough to enter me to see what I was doing.

I reached out and clenched it in my hand. I felt a red haze of pure anger and pleasure as I lifted the opener and stabbed him wildly again and again. I swung my arm up and out one last time and Richard gave a strangled cry and toppled off me.

The letter opener was jutting obscenely from his lower belly like a grotesque artificial penis. He clutched the letter opener and pulled it out. Blood streamed between his fingers and over me. He lay on his side, his blood pooling into a crimson puddle on the oak floor beneath his body. I turned him onto his back so I could look at him.

To my dying day, I will always remember the look on his face—the hatred and triumph that glared back at me has kept me from sleeping many times. He tried to speak but coughed up a mouthful of blood instead. From the gurgling sounds that he was making, I guessed that he was choking on his own blood.

I heard his last words clearly: "….last laugh…'s a dead man." He tried to say more but the light from his eyes died and so did he.

I looked down at myself. My hands were red to the wrists and my dress was drenched with blood.

What the hell was I going to do?

Brown and Jones were guarding the door and it would only be a matter of time before they came in. I saw my answer from the cool breeze that wafted in from the open French doors. I could go out the back way and with any luck, sneak my way past the valets, and leave by the parking area.

I looked down at myself. Even though it was pitch dark outside, if anyone shone their headlights on me, they'd see the blood. How was I going to cover myself? Frantically, I ran my eyes over the room until I saw Richard's dinner jacket carefully draped on the back of a chair. It was a cool night after all, if anyone saw me, they'd see nothing more than Richard had gallantly loaned me his jacket so I would be warm. As long as I didn't open it and reveal my blood-spattered dress, I'd be fine.

As I looked at Richard's body at my feet, I felt tears prick at my eyes. Despite everything, I had loved him. He'd paid half of my contract and I would always be grateful to him for that. But Richard had wanted more from me than I could give. Once upon a time, if Richard had asked me to marry him, I probably would have accepted. However, once I'd met and fallen in love with Ben, whatever love I had had for Richard dwindled into nothingness.

Now he was lying dead on the floor because of me. Out of all the powerful people in Sin City who wanted him dead, it was me, a teenage former hooker, who had struck him down. Once the Mob learned of what I had done, they would come after me.

The practical side of my nature made me scan the room. If I was going to be on the run, I would need money. I saw the envelopes with cash that had been given to me earlier in the evening. The ones with checks I would have to leave behind, as I did not dare cash them. These were my wedding gifts, although the people who had given them to me never imagined that I would use them to start a new life after I'd murdered the host of my own wedding reception.

I wanted to leave but I couldn't make my feet move. All through my childhood, my father drummed into me a strong sense of responsibility.

"_If you do something bad, own up to it,"_ was one of his favourite sayings.

My father did not raise me to a shirker and I would not shame his memory by taking the easy way out. He hadn't raised me to be a murderess either, but if he could see what led up to this moment in Richard's blood-drenched study, I know he would have understood.

I smiled wistfully at the thought of all the money I was leaving behind. Ben could have used it to find a good lawyer for me as mine was lying dead on the floor.

I retrieved my panties from the floor and threw them in the wastepaper basket. I straightened up and smoothed my dress over my hips. Proudly raising my chin, I walked purposefully to the study door outside of which Jones and Brown were still standing guard. I had done nothing wrong in killing Richard--I was defending my honour against a rapist. Any woman had the right to do that.

I reached out and put my hand on the doorknob.

"Don't do that, Sherry," said a deep, gravelly voice behind me.


	19. Accused

Accused

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the Sin City franchise, blah blah blah.

Author's Note: If you haven't done so already, you'll have to read the re-posted version of Chapter 18, otherwise this chapter will be very confusing...

lll

At the sound of the unexpected voice behind me, I turned around. My first fear was that Richard was still alive. However, his body was in exactly the same position as when I left him.

"Over here, kiddo," Ben said. His broad silhouette was framed in the open French doors at the back of the study. The slight breeze made his black leather knee-length trench coat billow around him like the wings of a bat. He had Matilda in his hand and when I ran over to him, he holstered it. He held me and I hugged him as tightly as if I were drowning and by holding him, he could save me. But no one could do that; I had taken my life down a path of no return.

The horror of the last 30 minutes hit me and I started bawling. I had taken a life. For the greater part of my life in Sin City, he had been a friend, a confidante, a father figure, and a lover.

Now he was lying at my feet in a pool of his own blood, an expression of hatred etched into his face. His eyes were still open and even from beyond the grave, he silently accused me. It was too much.

My stomach churned and I knew I was going to throw up. I clapped a hand over my mouth and stumbled past Ben to the nearest tree, which was about twenty feet from the French doors. I fell to my knees and emptied my stomach on Richard's perfectly manicured lawn. Because the parking lot was on the other side of the high limestone wall that enclosed the entire estate, no one saw me.

"Here," Ben said when he'd caught up to me. He guided me over to a stone bench that was directly under the tree. "Sit here for a bit until you feel better."

"But we have to get out of here! Now!" I wailed before vomiting onto the grass again.

Ben snapped his fingers as if an idea came to him and he kissed the top of my head. "Kiddo, you may have just saved both our lives. I'll be back in a bit." Despite his size, Ben could be light on his feet and he loped quickly back to the blood-spattered scene of my crime.

I don't know how long I sat there in the dark, waiting for Ben to come back and wondering what he was up to. I felt hot blood slowly dribble from my split chin down my neck and slide between my breasts. Now my dress was soaked with Richard's blood as well as my own. Shock was starting to set in and I was shivering uncontrollably in the crisp night air but I had nothing to cover myself with. It was getting colder because the wind had kicked up enough to make the fallen leaves on the lawn tumble and dance. Thunder rumbled in the distance and I saw the sky light up for a moment with a lightning bolt. A storm was coming.

One question bounced from one side of my head to the other: what we were going to do? No matter what plan Ben had in mind, there was no way we could get out of this. No way in hell.

I ruined our lives for nothing. Richard said he was going to rape me. In my short life, being raped was almost a common occurrence. My stepfather, all three of the Roarke men and my own husband satisfied their lust in me by force. Because Richard was fat and out of shape and he tended to run out of sexual steam quickly, forced sex with him would have been unpleasant but no hardship.

Because I acted rashly, the best Mob lawyer in the whole fucking state was dead. Richard was a made man and the murder of a made man disgraced his Mob family's honour. They would not rest until they had taken their revenge for his murder.

Another wave of nausea hit me so suddenly that I didn't even have time to lean my head over the side of the bench before the deluge hit. I groaned as I tried to wipe the stinking, slimy mess from the front of my dress but my efforts only made things worse. Now I was covered in blood _and_ puke.

Ben came back and he was carrying his coat on his arm. "Sherry, I have to do something to you and you're not gonna like it, but I don't have time to explain right now. It's the only way out for both of us. Do you trust me?"

I nodded my head and swallowed hard, grimacing at the sour taste of puke in my mouth. "What are you going to do?"

"Give you the best alibi I can," my husband said. "The less you know about what I've done in the study, the better. I'm sorry, kiddo…" Ben raised his fist and my world went dark.

lll

"She's awake, John," a male voice said.

People hung over me and I wondered who they were. I had no clue where I was or how I got here. My vision was blurry and although a host of questions came to me, I decided to keep my mouth shut until I knew more. My head ached and I made a mental promise that I would make Ben pay for this.

Instead of lying outside on the cold stone bench, I was lying on a loveseat that was directly in front of a fireplace, where a fire snapped and crackled merrily, radiating badly needed warmth to my frozen body.

I was wearing Ben's trench coat and it was belted tightly around me. Because Ben was so tall, the hem of the knee-length coat brushed against my ankles. My bloody dress was completely hidden in the coat's ample folds. However, the coat couldn't hide the stench of sour vomit that radiated from me. The smell undoubtedly made some of the people in the room keep their distance--which was perfectly fine with me.

It took me a while to notice that I was no longer in the study, this was a different room. It smelled pleasantly of aftershave and cigar smoke and I guessed that this was the room where many of the Mob's renowned all night poker games took place. Paintings covered the walls. Over the fireplace was a particularly vibrant work of art, the canvas was a blurry mixture of blues and gold. I recognized the piece that caught my eye because of the vibrant colours and distinctive style of the artist. The tortured red-haired man who had painted it seventy years before had cut off his ear and then killed himself in despair. The painting I was looking at was more than this mansion and everything in it.

"What happened?" I asked. I blinked owlishly, trying to clear my head. I could hear voices and there seemed to be a lot of people coming in and out of the room.

John Hardigan shrugged. "We found Richard on the floor of his study, lying in a pool of his own blood. Can you tell us anything about that?"

I could feel the blood drain from my face, making me dizzy. If I had been standing, my knees would have buckled beneath me. "Oh God…"

"John, for Chrissake, go easy on her, will you? She doesn't know about it yet," a woman said. I turned my head and saw Gertrude Williams sitting beside me. She was wearing a stunning evening dress of black and gold. It took me a moment to recall that she and her husband had been at the party as well. She took my hand. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Sherry, but Richard is dead."

I closed my eyes. I knew better than anyone else how and why Richard died. Fear makes your mind work slower sometimes. I remembered going to the door to face the consequences of my actions but Ben called me back at the last second. Whatever he had done during the time I was unconscious, he would tell me later. Right now, my main priority was to provide as little information as possible and play dumb.

"He's dead?" I asked.

John Hardigan's face came into the field of my still-blurry vision. "I've already told you that he is."

"How?"

"He was stabbed multiple times. Now this is very important, Sherry. I need you to tell me exactly what you remember. Jones and Brown have already given me their statements—that you were in here for quite a while with Richard. _Alone_."

I heard the stress John placed on the last word. "Yes, we were."

"Why?"

"He just wanted to talk to me." I could feel my eyes prickle. This wasn't going to work. I was already giving myself away. "I'm sorry," I said. "I--"

I shifted my position and realized there was something in the hip pockets of the coat. In the left pocket was a long and heavy object and judging by its size and weight, it could only be my Uncle Tom's police-issued flashlight. And on it was Ben's fingerprints and Tom's blood. There was something in the right hand pocket too but I didn't know what it was.

John Hardigan was looking at me strangely. "Sherry? Are you all right?"

"No! How can I be? I mean, I wake up to find out that Richard is dead…" I couldn't trust my voice anymore so I shook my head. I decided to deflect the topic of conversation. "How did I get here?"

"Ben said he found you outside. Why were you there?"

I was on surer ground now but I still had to proceed cautiously. "I had too much to drink and I was feeling sick. I ran outside to throw up. I was on the bench when everything went dark…The next thing I remember is waking up here." Every word of it was the God's honest truth—from a certain point of view, of course. My chin was hurting again and I fingered it to see if it was still bleeding. Instead, I felt the ends of a coarse thread sticking out from it.

"You cut your chin and I had to put in stitches," Gertrude said in response to my blank look. "I think I did a pretty good job. You'll have a scar, though."

"I will? Will it be bad?" The silliness of her words hit me and I felt like laughing. I was going to spend the rest of my life in prison and I was worrying about a scar?

Hardigan leaner closer and sniffed, his eyes hardening in displeasure at the obvious smell of champagne-induced vomit. "Why were you drinking? You're not legal age."

Afraid that he would lean close enough to see how my hands shook, I put it in the right-hand pocket. It was then that I figured out what was hidden there. It was long and thin and the deeply carved handle could only be one thing—the ivory letter opener that I had shoved deep into Richard's belly.

If John Hardigan was half as good as his reputation, I couldn't let my guard down for a second. I realized he was still waiting for me to answer his question and I shook my head. He started in on me again and it was all I could do to follow the torrent of questions.

"Well? Answer me. Why were you drinking?"

I stammered and stuttered, desperately trying to make my head clear so I could answer his question. However, before I could even think of a reply, John fired more questions at me, never giving me a chance to recover. It was a standard interrogating procedure, my father once told me. Never give a suspect a chance to think. Get them so confused and unnerved that they'll blurt out the truth without even realizing what they were doing.

"Did Richard tell you he was meeting someone tonight?"

"No. I mean, I don't think—"

"Why did you go outside?"

"I told you. I wasn't feeling well…"

"How long were you out there?"

"I--I don't remember!" I shouted.

"Did you see anyone enter or leave the house?"

Ben spoke up and he was mad. "How the hell could she see if anyone came in? She went outside to puke her guts out! If you don't believe me, go out to the tree. You'll smell it for yourself. When I found her, she was passed out on the bench. Who knows how long she was lying out there for? The house was full of people, have you questioned every one of them? Who's to say that Richard didn't have an appointment to meet one of 'em in his study?"

"But Sherry isn't old enough to drink," John said, doggedly returning to his first question. "She's a minor."

"Bullshit!" Gert snapped. "If she's old enough to get married, then she's old enough to drink. Who cares if she was bombed? It was her party! Furthermore, you weren't here tonight, John. You didn't see how drunk she was. _I _did. And so did everyone else who was here. The girl could hardly stand up!"

Despite the arguments for my innocence he was getting from both Ben and Gert, John Hardigan was like a hound dog that had gotten a whiff of something and wouldn't give up. "It's too much of a coincidence that Richard just happened to be killed at the exact moment that Sherry is conveniently passed out on the lawn. Sherry, I want you to tell me the truth. What really happened between you and the victim tonight? I'm going to find out anyway, so you may as well tell me now."

Before John could proceed, Ben stepped into the argument. "Goddamn it, haven't you asked Sherry enough fucking questions for one night?"

"Just doing my job, Ben. I have to interview everybody."

Ben glanced in my direction. "I know and I'm sorry for getting so mad but…look at this from my point of view. I mean, I get here and find Sherry passed out on the lawn. I came in to yell at Rich for leaving her out there and find him lying in his own blood. Now you're acting like she's the one who did it? Enough is enough, man. It's late and Sherry's been through hell. Can I take her home?"

Gert spoke up. "I would recommend it, John. Sherry will be able to think more clearly after a good night's sleep. These are our friends. They're not the type to skip town. You have nothing to lose by letting them leave." She smiled wryly at me. "And you _could_ use a bath." She glared at John.

Hardigan scowled and angrily scrawled something on his notepad before he snapped it shut. A young barely-old-enough-to-shave uniformed officer had been standing patiently by John's side. John turned and finally acknowledged him. "Yes?"

The young man coughed nervously. "Sir, we tried to salvage what we could from what was left in the fireplace but it wasn't any good. All we have is ashes. From what we could tell, someone poured alcohol on the papers and lit it."

"How about the safe? What was left in it?"

"A lot of money, some jewelry and private papers. We're going through it anyway."

"If money and jewelry were left in the safe, that means that robbery wasn't a motive. Everything that might have helped us identify the killer was burned in the fire. Damn!" John said. "I was hoping that we'd find something in that safe that might give us a clue…"

"There was a lot of money in envelopes on the desk," the kid said helpfully.

"I saw them," John Hardigan replied. "They were wedding gifts for Sherry and Ben. I already talked to a guest who said he heard Richard tell the big guy, Jones, to put the envelopes on his desk. Did you find the weapon?"

"Not yet."

"You probably won't, but keep looking. Whoever the killer was, he took it with him. Any news on the whereabouts of the victim's wife?"

"No, sir. We haven't located her yet. However, we _did_ find something, er, interesting in the wastebasket."

There was something in the young officer's tone that made John Hardigan take notice. "What?"

The rookie brought forward a paper evidence bag and removed my panties. My eyes widened when I saw him bring the panty crotch up to his nose when he inhaled my scent. "These _definitely_ have been worn recently. She was probably a hooker because no respectable lady would be caught dead wearing these."

A deep flush spread from the crisp collar of the kid's uniform to his face. I had been a hooker long enough to know what that meant. There had been several fathers who had taken their sons to me to break their man-cherry and introduce them into the pleasures of manhood. I had seen the awkward blushes and shy glances of inexperienced boys before. I glanced down at his pants to confirm my suspicions. Sure enough, he was getting a hard on.

That's probably as close as he's ever come to a woman's pussy since his mother gave birth to him, I thought. I couldn't resist. "Would you like be alone?"

The kid blushed as red as a beet and shoved my panties back into the evidence bag. Chuckles and snickers from the older male detectives present filled the room. While John turned his head to hide a smile, I caught the eye of the rookie I'd just insulted. His eyes narrowed dangerously and his lips moved as if he was cursing me under his breath.

Ben roared with laughter and slapped John hard on the back. "I sure married a live one, didn't I, John? Seriously though, if you check between the sofa cushions, I'm sure you'll find more pairs of ladies' unmentionables lying around his office. Rich had quite the reputation as one horny son of a bitch. If you don't believe me, ask Jones and Brown. They've driven him to a lot of hotels so he could fuck them without his wife knowing."

As painful as it was to hear my relationship with Richard put into such crude terms, I couldn't deny a word of it. He _had_ paid me to fuck him. I was the last in a long line of whores who shared Richard's bed. Now he was dead. Grief and stress threatened to shatter what was left of my composure. But I knew if I lost it now, all Ben's efforts to save me would have been for nothing.

John consulted his notes. "That's how he met you, wasn't it, Sherry?"

I bent my head in shame. "Yes. He'd paid for me on several occasions."

"Was he one of your regular customers?"

"Yes."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the kid smirk in triumph but I had other more important things on my mind to pay him any mind.

John asked me several more questions about my relationship with Richard and when he was done, my throat was dry. I asked Gert to get me some water. Instead of taking small sips, I chugged it down with as much gusto as the champagne I had drunk earlier. Unfortunately, my stomach was still too upset and raw to handle even water. Almost as soon as I swallowed it, the water came right back up again. John grimaced and tried to get out of the way, but the vile-smelling water still drenched his trouser leg from knee to ankle.

Ben put his arm around me in a no-nonsense way. "That's it. I'm takin' Sherry home. She's too upset to answer any more questions tonight. She needs to rest and get the hell out of this house. Plus, she could use a good bath." Ben's eyes twinkled a bit. "So could you, John. As well as a clean uniform."

John shut his notepad with a frustrated snap. "All right, Ben. I'll come by tomorrow to get Sherry's full statement."

I could tell he wasn't pleased at not being able to grill me then and there and as a policeman's daughter, I knew why. Every cop, from the newest rookie fresh out of the academy to the life-long career man, knew that the first 72 hours were the most important in solving a crime. Evidence can disappear; witnesses can change a story—by either forgetting facts or just plain lying…just as I was doing.

A case that involved such a high profile victim would shake Sin City to its core. The pressure on the police force to solve the case would be unprecedented. Unless I missed my guess, John would be at our doorstep as soon as the sun rose.

"Come over whenever you want. We're not goin' anywhere." Ben said, jutting his chin at John defiantly as the two men stared each other down. After a long moment, Ben turned his attention to Gertrude. "Does Sherry need to see a doctor?"

Nurse Williams dug into her medical bag. She took out a small orange bottle of pills and handed it to Ben. "No. Give her two of these and she'll sleep through the night. In fact, if it's all right with you, Ben, I'll come over with John tomorrow and see how Sherry is doing."

"Why?" John interrupted. "All she did was pass out and cut her chin."

Gert leveled a steely gaze at her old friend and former childhood gang member. "I don't tell _you_ how to investigate your crime scene, so don't tell _me_ how to diagnose my patient."

"For Chrissake, Gert, don't give yourself airs. You're only a nurse, not a doctor…"

When Gert spoke, her voice rose so loud and irate that everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and listened. "_Only_ a nurse? You listen to me, John Walter Hardigan, and you listen good! This _nurse_ saved the lives of your son and wife when she went into labour two months early! She would have bled to death if it hadn't been for me and you know it, you ungrateful motherf--"

Experienced detectives caught one another's eye and grinned. It wasn't often that Lieutenant Hardigan made a mistake; however, he had made a big one when he referred to Gertrude Williams as '_only_ a nurse.' They were well aware that Nurse Gertrude Williams had more medical knowledge from her years of nursing than any still-wet-behind-the-ears male medical school graduate did. In fact, quite a few of those detectives with young children had often called Gert in the middle of the night for a house call instead of their own family physicians.

The two of them continued to bicker and while this disagreement showed no sign of stopping, everyone took a break from their duties and watched discreetly from the sidelines.

Ben saw this distraction as the perfect opportunity to leave. "Uh, okay. C'mon, kiddo, you've had a busy night. I think we should get out of here before this two kill each other."

Ben and I left and no one stopped us—they were too busy watching the noisy and volatile argument between John and Gert. Under the very noses of all the cops in the house, I was walking out wearing the only pieces of evidence that proved who the murderers of Richard Kershaw and Tom Dekker were.

It just so happened that as we were leaving the library, Richard's body was being wheeled out to the coroner's van. He was covered with a bloodstained sheet. Whoever had wrapped him up, hadn't done a good job. His hand stuck out from underneath the sheet. To my overwrought nerves, it looked like his finger was pointed at me, as if even in death, he was identifying me as his murderer.

I fell to my knees and began to sob. I didn't remember being picked up. I didn't remember being put into a car. As soon as he'd stopped the car in front of our building, I was out of it like a shot, making a beeline for our apartment and the bathroom.

My fingers turned into thumbs and no matter what I did, I could not loosen the belt that held the coat together. I started to pant and sob in my frustration. I wasn't able to see what I was doing as tears streamed from my eyes. "I can't get it off!" I wailed. I was getting hysterical now and my frantic attempts to undo the knot only made it tighter.

"Easy, babe, let me." Ben tried his best but the knot was too tight. He took a switchblade from his back pocket and cut the belt. He quickly slid the coat from my body and before it hit the floor, I was already in the shower. As I sat in the tub, Ben used the knife to cut my dress off my body until it lay in pieces around me.

"Here, let me take these out of your way," Ben said. "You want me to leave you alone?"

I nodded, although I wasn't aware that I had done so.

I sat there, unmoving, hot water cascading down on my body. With the brush, I scrubbed my skin until it was red and raw but no matter how hard I scrubbed, I felt like I would never be clean again. When I was too weak to lift my arms anymore, I drew my knees up, wrapping my arms around them. I started crying and rocking back and forth.

I felt a waft of cool air caress my body when Ben opened the curtain. He didn't say a word; instead, he wrapped a towel around me, lifted me of the tub, and made me sit on the edge of it while he dried me off. Ben vigorously rubbed my frozen, wet body with a thick, fluffy towel until not a drop of water was left. I was warming up and the chill from the trauma and shock was wearing off.

He worked the brush through my wet hair and brushed it until it was dry and gleaming.

"That's my girl," Ben said fondly as he stroked my face. "Stay here and I'll find something for you to wear. I know exactly what you need but it'll take me a bit to dig it out of the closet."

Ten minutes later, he retuned with a hideously ugly, bright red plaid flannel shirt. It was the ugliest piece of clothing I'd ever seen. Ben grinned when he saw my reaction. "Every year during hunting season, the Senator would take a gang of guys to his lodge. Most of the time, we just boozed up and fished but when we did hunt, I made damn sure I wore this so no moron would mistake me for a damn moose. It's ugly as hell but it's warm."

He eased my arms into the sleeves and buttoned it up. He picked me up in his arms and carried me to the bed, pausing for a moment to turn down the covers and I crawled into its inviting snugness and warmth. When I was settled in comfortably, he tucked the blankets tightly under my chin and handed me a glass of water so I could swallow the pills Gert had prescribed.

"Sherry, I want you to tell me what happened."

I didn't want to answer. I only wanted to curl under the covers and disappear. However, my husband had tampered with a crime scene, obliterating every scrap of evidence of my blatant and undeniable guilt. I owed him the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

"I didn't want to, but he made me! He said that unless I gave him sex whenever he wanted, he was going to give John the flashlight and tell him where he could find Uncle Tom. Afterward, Don Battaglio came in to talk business and I was told to leave. But I was nosy and I listened at the door to what they were saying. Richard was going to give the flashlight to John Hardigan--tomorrow! Richard said he'd make sure you were executed. After you were dead, he was going to marry me and force me to bear his children. I told him that I'd get an illegal abortion if I got pregnant."

Ben's face went white. "I know how much you've always wanted children. No matter how much you hated the father, you couldn't get rid of anyone's baby, right?"

"Right, but Richard didn't know that." The words came pouring out and I couldn't stop them. "He got mad and was going to ass rape me on his desk to teach me a lesson! It hurt so bad when you…" I stopped when I saw the haunted look that came on Ben's face. I decided not to go there. "I couldn't go through that again. I knew I had to stop him any way I could. I saw the letter opener and took it. I didn't mean to kill him, I swear!"

Ben sat on the edge of the bed but didn't say anything for quite a while. When he did, his voice was low and I heard his bitterness. "You stabbed him four times, Sherry. Once would've been enough to get away if that's what you really wanted. Admit it, you wanted to kill him. You did it because you didn't want him to fuck you in the ass; you didn't kill him because he said he'd go to the police and tell them that I killed Tom Dekker."

"Ben…"

"Let me finish!" he snapped. "Sorry, but like I told John, it's been a helluva night. If I hadn't done what I did, you'd be in a jail cell right now. I love you, Sherry. I always will."

"Is that why you stopped me from going to the door?"

Ben sighed and scowled. "Yeah. I didn't wanna see you make a mistake that could take you away from me forever. You were probably thinking you were doing the noble thing by going to Jones and Brown but...I had to stop you from making the biggest mistake of your life."

There were so many things I wanted to say—but one thought, one desire came bubbling to the surface of my conscious and would not go away. I put my hand on Ben's thigh and stroked him. "Fuck me. Please?"

"What?"

"Tonight, I was taken without consent, without love, Ben. Richard used my body for his own pleasure. He dangled your life in front of me like a carrot on a stick so I would do his bidding. Now I need to know what it's like to be taken with consent, with love."

Ben took my hand away from his leg. "Usually, you don't have to ask me twice to be with you but just this once, I'm gonna have to say no."

My lower lip trembled but I couldn't stop it. Ben was rejecting me! I guess I couldn't blame him. If he did fuck me, he'd only be having Richard's sloppy seconds. That would be a blow to any man's pride.

"Don't get the wrong idea, Sherry. I'm saying 'no' because you've been with that bastard. What you need now is rest, not a fuck. John's coming over tomorrow and we have to get our stories straight." He smiled wanly and chucked me under the chin. "Once he's gone, then we'll see, okay?"

If Ben could laugh despite everything that had happened tonight, then so could I. He was right—I had to be strong otherwise I'd say or do something that would reveal my guilt. However, before I could sleep, I had to know something. "Why didn't you tell me what you were going to do? Why did you have to deck me?"

My husband smiled. "Because you'll never make a good liar, Sherry. It takes years of practice to get it right and with both our lives at stake, the less you knew, the better. When you threw up by the tree, it gave me an idea and I ran with it. I gotta tell you, though, your puking on John made my day! That probably saved your neck."

"Why did you burn the papers in the safe?"

"To make it look like someone killed Richard because of what was in the safe. And lemme tell you, he had stuff on just about everybody who is anybody in this town. While you were out cold, I emptied the safe in the fireplace, poured booze on it and lit it up. I'm sure many a family would thank me if they knew."

"'The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton'," I murmured. Ben looked at me with his head tilted in confusion. It was obvious he had no idea what I was talking about. "It's the name of one of my favourite Sherlock Holmes stories," I explained. "Holmes and Watson burgle the house of the most infamous blackmailer in London to save a lady's reputation. Holmes opens the safe and burns all the papers that were in it, in the fireplace. Just like you did." I looked at Ben with renewed respect. "How did you get it open?"

Ben grinned boyishly and it took years from his face. "Richard always thought that I was all brawn and no brains and he never bothered to hide the combination from me. I thought it might come in handy some day, so I memorized it. But I didn't burn everything." He winked at me. "The Roarke family had an entire box dedicated just to them. I removed a few papers from it."

"Why?"

"I've had enough of working for the Mob, Sherry. Some of the things I've done for the Don makes the Senator look like the fucking Pope." His smile vanished and until this moment, I hadn't realized how much working with Richard bothered him.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

Ben shrugged his wide shoulders. "You liked the stuff I brought home and the money was good."

Tears came to my eyes when I remembered all the times Ben's clothes were stained with blood, although none of it was his own. I knew my husband well enough to know that he did not like hurting people, especially women. Despite his intimidating size, my Ben had a tender heart and a gentle soul. The effect of hearing people cry out in pain must have affected him deeply but he had endured and suffered the sting of his conscience in silence.

He said nothing because he saw how much I liked the perks that came with working for the Mob—jewelry, furs, money.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, leaning against his arm.

"Don't cry, Sherry," Ben said, his voice hoarse with emotion. I looked up and saw that he had tears in his eyes as well. "It's all behind us now. All of it."

"Do you think Roarke'll take you back?"

"Dunno. But with these papers in my hand, he might."

"Did you see anything?"

Ben shrugged. "Not much. I was coming from the west side of the house and through the windows, I saw you face down on the desk and Rich was behind you. Then you fell to the floor and he was on top of you. I took out my gun, intending to shoot the bastard. I ran as fast as I could but you'd already taken care of him. I stopped you before you were going to open the study door."

"What did you do after you knocked me out?"

"After burning the files, I looked around the study and saw the ivory thing that you stabbed Richard with and the flashlight. I put both in my coat, went outside, put the coat on you and called Jones and Brown in. They secured the house, called the cops, and told everyone to go home. Since Gert's almost a doctor, they got her to look at the body. I crossed my fingers and hoped to hell everything would be all right. So far, so good. But we're not out of the woods yet, kiddo. We still have to get through tomorrow."

"Why didn't you come in the front door?"

Ben frowned. "From my very first day of work, Rich made it clear that I couldn't come in the front entrance. According to him, servants and other employees had to come in the house by another way. There are a lot of back and side entrances I could have used instead but something told me to go in by the study door."

Richard's snobbery gave Ben the perfect alibi in case the cops asked him why he didn't come in the front entrance—he wasn't allowed to.

There was one more thing I had to know. "I heard the Don and Richard say that they sent you off on a collection job that didn't exist and that you'd be gone for a while."

"When the guy I was supposed to meet didn't show, I knew something was off, ya know? I can't explain it, but something inside me told me to go to the mansion as soon as possible, because you needed me. I think I broke every goddamn speed limit but I'm glad I did."

"Me too." The pills were starting to take effect and I yawned so widely that my eyes watered. I couldn't fight it any longer, I had to sleep. Ben left me alone and as I drifted off, my thoughts returned again and again to Richard.

Our relationship had not entirely been based on sex. He had comforted me when I needed someone to talk to. He had restored my faith in men, by showing me that not all of them were brutes. There were many times when Richard and I would talk until dawn and he never laid a hand on me unless I wanted him to. I could not forget that he had dropped everything to be with me at the hospital when I overdosed.

Before the lustful evil perverted his mind and possessed his body during the last month of his life, he had been good to me. He would always have a special place in my heart and I would miss the good side of him terribly.

However, it would be nearly twenty-four hours before I learned how evil Richard had become.


	20. Discussion

Discussion

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the Sin City franchise, etc, etc.

Author's Note: Special thanks to my loyal reviewers—wannabanauthor, RomRomz, and LUVYDUVY. You guys are wonderful! Your reviews are what keep me going! A special shout out to The Lone Hunter for agreeing to be my beta/sounding board for story ideas.

lll

When I woke up, Ben was gone. I decided to take a shower and finally drive the shock and half-drunk feeling from my body. The flannel shirt, though warm, was itchy and I yearned not to have the constant desire to scratch myself every five minutes.

I threw the shirt on the floor and stepped beneath the shower spray. Because of the hard scrubbing from the night before, the hot water burned my tender skin like a thousand fiery needles. Although my body was relaxed, my mind certainly was not. A thousand thoughts raced through it and my head began to throb with a headache.

With my strict Catholic upbringing, killing a man under any circumstance, even self-defense, was no excuse. When it came right down to it, I had taken a life that was not mine to take. Only God had that right. However, as penance for my crime, I would always be haunted by the memory of that awful look on Richard's face as he lay dying.

I turned off the water and reached around the shower enclosure to grab the towel. Instead of its fluffy softness, my hands brushed against rough warm flesh. I shrieked and drew back, although there was nowhere to go.

"Sorry, babe," Ben's hearty voice said. My fears were dissolved in an instant but I had been so frightened that I was now angry and feeling more than a little stupid.

"Who'd ya think it was?" he drawled, his eyes lazily surveying my dripping body. I yanked the towel from his hands and primly covered myself, tucking the end between my breasts.

"Aw, don't do that, I was just admiring the view," he said.

I stood in front of him and pushed at his chest. "You scared me half to death, you big schmuck! I thought you were the police!" I pursed my lips and put my hands on my hips in righteous indignation as he laughed at me.

"You won't be mad when I tell you where I've been." He waited for me to respond but I didn't. "I went to the Pits and threw your dress, the flashlight and letter opener in there. No one will ever find them. We're home free, Sherry."

I sighed deeply and some of the tension in my body evaporated. I was so relieved that they were finally gone, that I hugged my husband.

"Am I forgiven for scaring you?" he asked, his chin resting on the top of my head. I nodded as I listened to the strong, steady beat of his big heart. This man had done so much for me in the short time we'd known each other--tenderly caring for me after my gang rape at the Roarke estate; Never giving up hope while I lay in my coma; Buying out my contract and setting me free; Killing Tom so that I would never be bothered by him again and finally, getting rid of all the evidence that could have put me in the electric chair. While it was true he had violated me on our wedding night, his good deeds far outweighed the bad.

His hand went under my chin and he raised my face so he could look at me. "Sherry, I promise you by all that is good in this world, that I will never hit or hurt you in any way again."

I smiled. "Even though if it's for the best?" I couldn't forget that only a few short hours ago, Ben soundly knocked my lights out--but it had been for my own good.

"Well…what I mean is that I won't smack you unless your life depends on it. Neither will I put my hands—or any other part of my body—on you in anger again."

"How about _in_ me?" I said huskily, my fingers reaching down to stroke my husband's hardening groin.

Ben shook his head vehemently from side to side. "Nope, I will never force myself on you again, I promise. And I mean that."

"But what if I said '_no_' right now?"

"I'd grumble but I'd accept it and I'd wait until you're asleep before I jerked off. If I don't, I won't be getting _any_ sleep. When guys get hard, and I mean _really_ hard, it takes hours for us to calm down. It's a hell of a lot easier if we self-serve and blow our load than wait for the hard-on to go away on its own."

"Have you ever done that because of me?"

"Sure. Lotsa times."

"Really?"

"Yup. Remember after our first date, when I didn't come over to see you? God knows I wanted you every day but I thought I'd get over you and I thought staying away would make it easier. I jerked off a _lot_ during that month. Recently when you were healin', I heard you cry out in your sleep and I'd lay beside you and hold you until you dozed off again. But I couldn't be near you for long, because I'd want to…you know, fuck you." He glanced at me. "Aside from that one time you touched yourself while I was watchin', have you ever…"

I nodded my head and decided to be as honest as he had been. "Played with myself? Yes, I have. When I was recuperating, there were times when I felt the need…"

"But why didn't you come to me? You know I woulda been glad to help you come in any way I could."

"I was afraid to be near you, let alone touching me."

Ben bowed his head and sighed. "Yeah, I remember. But those days are over now, so if ever you want—need—to be satisfied, you know I'll gladly do it." I opened my mouth to say something but Ben put his finger on my lips, silencing me. "And if you don't want to do the same to me, that's okay. I love you. I want to make you as happy as I can for as long as I can."

His words had a premonitory note in them and I shivered. Ben saw it but he didn't guess the real reason. "Christ, here I've been babblin' on and on while you're freezing! But first, I gotta say something, Sherry." He got to his knees in front of me. He took my hand and placed it over his heart. "I love you, kid. I have from the first moment I saw you lyin' there on the bathroom floor and I will until the day that I die."

My eyes filled with tears. I knelt down and held my husband's face between my palms. "Your place is at my side, not at my feet. But right now, your place is between my legs." I giggled at my nerve and Ben raised his eyebrow in a teasing manner.

"Your wish is my command, milady," he said. He stood up, towering over me, and hoisted me easily over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. He carried me to the bed and laid me down. Leaning over me, his lips blazed a trail of hot wetness from my ear to my shoulder. I gasped when Ben nipped at my skin with his teeth, and it sent a current of lust straight to my clit.

"How do you want me?" Ben asked, his hot breath against my ear.

I couldn't see his face in the darkness of the room and I brushed my fingers across his stubbly chin. "Richard…" I paused, silently vowing never to speak his name in our bed again. "…_He_ took me and used me for his own pleasure. You know I love it when you fuck me hard but not now. More than ever, I need to be _loved_ tonight. Tenderly. Gently."

"He hurt you, didn't he?"

I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes and I nodded. "He made me feel like a whore. I guess you could say I was, but unlike most whores who get money for their services, he was going to pay me with his silence about Uncle Tom."

"Babe, I am so sorry," Ben said. "Please remember that I am here for you anytime you need me. If you don't want to do this, I'll understand."

"No! I want you, Ben. I _need_ you. But what I need most of all is to be treated like a woman, not a cunt."

Ben's lips caressed mine for a long, lovely moment. I was reminded of the first time I had kissed him in my brothel room a lifetime ago. Fire raced down my spine and pooled in my cunt. My hands made quick work of removing my towel and I began to unbutton his shirt. I was desperate to have him inside of me, but when I reached down to his belt, Ben's hands stopped me. He brought my palm up to his mouth and he kissed it.

"Easy, easy," Ben gently chided me. "There's no need to rush. I'm gonna make this night special for you. Now lie on your stomach."

With a firm but gentle touch, Ben massaged my back and neck and I found myself relaxing under his hands. I groaned deeply as I felt stress melt away, leaving a pleasant numbness behind. As he worked his way down my body, my limbs felt heavier and I wanted nothing more but to lie there and succumb to the lassitude that was spreading through my body.

When he was finished with my feet, I gasped when he suckled my toes. Normally, I was very ticklish but that certainly was not the case now. Feeling his hot, wet mouth on my feet was arousing and I moaned. He trailed his tongue up to my calves and the back of my legs and I didn't need to be told twice to roll over onto my back.

Of their own accord, my legs parted and Ben settled himself between them. My toes curled in pleasure when his large fingers skimmed over my slit until I was sure I was soaking the mattress with my juices.

When I became too excited, Ben stopped what he was doing and kissed me until I was calm again. For what seemed like hours, I alternated between states of tranquility and insanity and I loved every second of it.

I learned a great deal about physical intimacy that night—lovemaking wasn't entirely based on the act of intercourse itself, there were many levels of arousal and satisfaction of which I knew nothing.

Under his patient guidance, I learned what Ben liked. Besides touching and suckling his penis and balls, I learned that other parts of his body were just as sensitive and responsive to my tongue, lips, and fingers. I felt his body twitch when I lightly nipped at his neck and shoulders. Ben groaned long and loud when I swirled my tongue around the curves and convolutions of his ear.

"Damn it, girl," he growled, "that's what I get for teaching you what to do—you're too fucking good at it."

"I'm a quick learner. You want me to stop?" I said mischievously.

"Hell, no! But I don't think that either of us can wait any more."

"Ain't that the truth," I said, deliberately quoting him.

I felt the bed shift when he moved. I spread my legs eagerly and he settled himself between them. Both of us emitted a simultaneous deep groan of pleasure when he buried his cock inside me. Because of the very extended foreplay, both of us were aroused to the point of madness. When he began thrusting, I could tell that he was holding himself back. I had fucked him enough times to know that he wanted nothing better than to fuck me hard and fast.

However, this is what I wanted, what I _needed_ right now and he respected that.

Ben's lips and mouth were scorching my flesh as he kissed me. I mewled in anticipation as I felt an orgasm building inside of me.

"Babe, I don't know how much longer I can last," Ben whispered and I heard his breath hitch inside of his throat. But he needn't have worried—I was so close to coming, that when he began thrusting faster inside of me, it took me over the edge as well.

We cuddled in the afterglow; both of us were so exhausted, we fell asleep almost immediately. I don't know how long I was in the dreamlike state between sleeping and wakefulness, but I awoke immediately when I felt Ben fingers caressing my breast and teasing my nipple, coaxing it to full hardness.

I felt his cock twitch against my buttocks and I purposefully wriggled my butt against him. He chuckled softly and held my body against him in an iron embrace.

"Now, what should a good husband like me do to a naughty wife who teases him when he's tryin' to sleep? He murmured. "Should I…?"

I didn't give him time to finish. "Fuck me, Ben. I need to be fucked into the mattress. Please?"

"Why?"

I touched his face in the darkness. "I need to experience the other side of the coin now. You were gentle with me when I needed it, but I need you to be rough. I can't explain it…" I said with a helpless shrug. I whimpered when he swiped his hand across my dripping pussy. Gently, he put a finger inside of me.

"Tell me what you want," Ben whispered. His voice was deep and hoarse and I knew he was aroused.

"Fuck me, Ben. Hard and fast. Give me everything you've got."

Despite my urgings to take me hard and fast, Ben was gentle when he penetrated me with his fingers. He slid into me slow and gentle and my toes tensed when he curled his fingers so that he was caressing my g-spot. I was getting hotter and hornier by the second.

What we had done earlier was primarily a desire on my part to experience emotional satisfaction. Now, however, we were obeying the oldest law of Nature—male with female. National Geographic would call it mating to procreate; we called it fucking to recreate.

And that's exactly what I told Ben to do. My mouth opened eagerly when his lips met mine. This was no gentle and timid kiss—this was a blistering promise of what lay in store for me. I shivered in delicious anticipation when he moved his body over mine.

Or, was it fear?

"Anxious?" Ben's deep voice whispered in the darkness. "Or afraid?"

"Yes," I answered. "To both."

He entered me. Even though he assured me that he wouldn't hurt me, I was nervous. I felt the muscles of his body under my hand as I touched him. I knew that Ben would never hurt me again, but I'd fucked enough men to know that sometimes even the gentlest man can inadvertently hurt a woman when the desire to climax overrides everything else, even promises.

Against my will, my body tensed up. I didn't know why—I trusted him to do the right thing. My thoughts were interrupted when Ben's fingers touched my face. "I'm sorry, Ben. I thought I was ready but…."

"That's all right, Sherry. We'll just ease into it slowly, that's all. We'll go at your speed."

I could only shake my head in wonderment. Were all marriages like mine? Did all husbands care so much about their wives? "I love you, Ben. So much…"

"Aw, babe, please don't cry. It hurts me to see you upset." He wiped my tears away and nestled his broad forehead against mine. "But don't you worry, whenever you're ready to do the '_fuck me now, right goddamn now,_' thing, all you have to do is ask."

Ben started moving inside of me again, sliding into me like a warm knife into butter. God, I loved this! I moaned and raked my nails over his shoulders.

He pounded his rigid cock inside me with steady powerful strokes. For my part, the desire to match his every movement with my own was overwhelming and I eagerly bucked my hips against him. I clutched him closer to me with my legs, hooking my feet together and held on for the ride. This was a new type of lovemaking than what I was used to—it wasn't rough but he wasn't fucking me as if I would break either. It was the perfect combination of both. It was new and different and I loved it.

I buried my face in my husband's chest and gave a throaty cry. I heaved my straining, sweating body against his until I stopping cumming. I could hear his breathing become faster as he came closer to his release. He clutched my buttocks in his hands and groaned deeply as he shot his white-hot seed deep into me. We rested against one another until we could breathe again.

I lay in my husband's arms, listening to the pounding of my husband's heart against my ear. I was half-asleep and so tired but something was off. I lifted my head and listened. It wasn't a heartbeat that I heard, there was someone at the front door! The knocking stopped and I heard the sound of a key being inserted into the lock.

Ben heard it too and bounded out of bed. In the darkness, I heard the sharp zing of his zipper as he hastily fastened his pants. A shiver slid down my spine when I heard the sound of a gun being cocked.

"Stay here," he commanded in a low tone. Quietly he left the bedroom and closed the door behind him. He had told me to stay, but I couldn't—wouldn't--obey. He was my husband and I had the right to be at his side in every situation, good or bad. I scuttled around in the bedroom trying to find my clothes but the only thing I could find was one of Ben's shirts.

As quietly as I could, I opened the bedroom door and was surprised to hear laughter coming from the living room. I peeped around the corner and my worries evaporated. It was Gert. She looked at me with a smile and a raised eyebrow, taking in my appearance in one sweeping glance. I glanced down at myself and blushed. I hadn't realized that all of the buttons on the shirt were unfastened and I was standing there, bare for everyone to see.

"I only let myself in when you didn't answer the door," Gertrude explained. "You received quite a bump on the head and I was worried about you. You don't have to be embarrassed—I was a newlywed myself once. There's never a bad time to have a quickie and some people just seem to come by at the wrong moment."

Ben guffawed and slapped his friend on the back. "No offence, Gert, but its true!"

"Besides, if you two don't do it, how else am I going to become an aunt?" Gert quipped.

While Ben entertained Gert in the living room, I went to put some clothes on before padding off to the kitchen to make supper. It wasn't anything fancy—lamb chops and vegetables. We talked her into staying for supper and I was glad she did. Like any new bride, I was anxious to show off my cooking abilities and I was proud that she was our first dinner guest.

After the dishes were done and the kitchen was clean again, Gert examined my chin. "You'll live," she said with a slight smile. "You still have a scar and I'm sorry for that."

We had just finished supper and talking over a few glasses of wine when we heard someone knocking. Since I was the closest to the door, I answered it. My heart was pounding and my throat closed in terror when I saw John Hardigan standing on our threshold. Was he coming to arrest me? Had he found evidence that showed I was Richard's murderer? It was only after he spoke that I breathed again.

"I would have been here hours ago but two things happened today that kept the entire police department hopping."

"What?" Ben said after his friend was seated at our dinner table and a plate of warm leftovers was put in front of him.

"Thanks," John said gratefully between mouthfuls, "I haven't had a bite since breakfast. We found Richard's wife. Dead."

I gasped. "Dead? Are you sure?" My mind whirled. Richard had told me that he had given her a check before she left him. Now she was dead. What else had he lied to me about?

"As sure as a bullet from a Walther P38 between the eyes can make someone. Her body was found in the trunk of his car… wrapped in a garbage bag. My guess is that he was going to dispose of her after the party when everyone had gone. The gun was beside the body and it was registered to Kershaw. Got his fingerprints all over it."

"Christ!" Ben whistled. "I knew he was a bastard, but to shoot your wife while she's looking at you and then dump her in the trunk? In a garbage bag…? That's cold, man. Real cold." He shook his head.

"What was the other thing you mentioned?" I asked.

"There was a serious breach in security around Senator Roarke last night. A big one. Some nutcase with a knife got close enough to stab him in the arm. Roarke's going to be okay, though. He only needed a few stitches. The would-be assassin is in lockup." John looked at me. "I still have to question you, Sherry, but not tonight. I interrogated the Roarke suspect for hours today and that was enough for one night. I know you're not going to run, but I still have to warn you not to leave town."

Ben scoffed. "Don't worry, John, we're not going anywhere." He changed the subject. "Someone would never gotten that close to Roarke on my watch. No fucking way. Who was in charge of the Senator's security detail?"

"Alex," John said.

"That idiot? Roarke must be desperate if he put that moron in charge…"

I wasn't listening to their conversation; I had other things to think about. What kind of monster would murder his wife of thirty years in cold blood? Was murdering his wife Richard's idea of _love_? What had happened to the good man I almost fell in love with? What had turned him into this beast? I shook my head, unable to make sense of it.

"Sounds like you've had a hard day," Ben said, "and you could use a drink or two. How about a good belt of bourbon? That'll take the edge off. Calm you right down."

John yawned and blinked his eyes owlishly. "I'd better not. I'm not going to stay much longer anyway, I only wanted to come over and tell you all what's what. Damn, I'm tired. Do you know how many calls I have received from the mayor, city councilmen and state officials I've received today? Somehow, word got out that Kershaw's safe was rifled and everyone wants to know if any information on them were in that safe. Speaking of which, not everything was burned. There was a lot of stuff that the killer didn't get to."

"This makes your list of suspects a lot bigger, doesn't it?" I asked. All the adults at the table looked at me. "Who is to say that Richard was going to blackmail the killer for whatever reason and instead of giving in, the murderer killed him instead?"

"I dunno, John," Ben said, thoughtfully rubbing his jaw. "Seems to me that Sherry's got a point."

"Yes, she does," seconded Gert. "Everyone who was being blackmailed had a reason to want him dead and now they are _all_ suspects."

"Someone had a lot of anger against Richard. One stab would've done the trick, but he got four."

"How did you know how many times he was stabbed, Ben?" John said sharply. "That wasn't released to the media."

"I was the one who found him, remember? I saw the holes in his body. I can count," Ben snapped. "And if it was me, I would have stabbed him a lot more than four times. Someone wanted to make sure Rich was dead."

"Can't argue with you there," John Hardigan said. "Someone wanted to get up close and personal with the deceased and see the lights in his eyes die before he left. Kind of like what the bastard did to his wife. Whoever it was could've just shot him and been done with it. But with a house full of people, that would've been too risky."

"That's true. With the party going on in full swing, it's not likely anyone would have heard the shot except Jones and Brown who were outside the door. I mean, sure, the music was loud, but could it have been enough to hide the sound of a gunshot? Too much of a risk. A knife is quieter."

"What about him crying out? Wouldn't anyone have heard it?" Gert asked.

Ben shook his head with the air of professional hitman. "Not necessarily. If you can stab someone in the chest, they won't be able to make a sound. Right?"

Gertrude nodded. "Yes. A stab in the lung means that someone could not breathe or cry out, no matter how much they tried."

Ben continued. "I think the killer came there to talk. Things got heated, one thing led to another and he stabbed him. He may have even brought the knife with him because it's easy to hide. Just slip it in your pocket and no one would know. Hell, even I carry a blade."

John's eyes were twinkling. "Careful, Ben, I'm here on official police business. I may have to arrest you for carrying a concealed weapon. You worked with Richard Kershaw and knew him personally. Who'd want him dead?"

"Aside from half the law enforcement in this city? Are you fucking kidding me? But to answer your question, the Mob has a lot of enemies. A rival crew, maybe?" Ben speculatively looked at John. "I don't wanna tell you how to do your job, pal, but you know as well as I do that with Richard gone, anyone from the Mob who goes to trial for anything, is gonna end up in jail. I'll say this for the bastard: he was a damn good lawyer."

John scowled. "I can't tell you how many rock solid cases I've had go down in flames because of him. From the moment he walked into a courtroom, he owned it. It didn't matter what charge it was—cop killing, robbery, extortion, he got them all off."

"Hell, the murderer could even _be_ a cop. Maybe someone who got pissed because, as you said, Rich got a lot of cop killers off." Ben stated.

"He sure did," John grumbled.

Gert spoke and I could see how angry she was. "I'm sure I speak for a lot of cops' wives in this town when I say I'm glad he's dead. Do you know how many friends of mine are now widows and their children have no fathers? Too many. Every time the phone rings and my husband has to go out, my heart stops beating. I don't know that is the last time I'll see him. I worry that he might end up lying in a ditch somewhere, killed by some Mob goon. No offense, Ben," she added quickly.

"None taken, Gert. But I've been having some thoughts about quitting the Mob." Ben leaned closer to his old friend. "Face it, Hardigan--the killer did you a favour. Now you'll have the highest conviction rate of Mob guys than anyone in the state. That'll be quite the feather in your cap with the Mayor. Maybe that'll put your name on the list for police commissioner? Whoever offed Rich, wanted to make damn sure those papers were destroyed. Who knows? Maybe the name of the guy was on one of 'em?"

"I wouldn't be surprised. Now we'll never know but I have a feeling that a helluva lot of people are going to sleep easier in this town from now on."

"And I'll bet that he'll be toasted from one end of Sin City to the other. Whoever killed Rich did this town a great service."

Gertrude raised her glass and we followed suit. "To the killer of that rat-fuck lawyer. Thank you_, Merci, _and_ Danke!_"

"Amen," we intoned.

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Author's note: Merci and Danke mean thank you in French and German.


	21. A Mob Funeral

A Mob Funeral

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the Sin City franchise, etc, etc.

Author's Note: Thanks to my fave reviewers, LUVYDUVY, RomRomz, and Wannabanauthor! An equally big thank you to TLH, for giving this older hen a virtual knuckle rapping and wake-up call when the work I was going to submit was not good, not bad, but only mediocre :)

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In the morning, I got a call from John Hardigan. "I know the funeral is today, but if you could come down for questioning, I'd appreciate it." He paused for a moment. "We found something at Kershaw's estate that you should see."

"What is it? Is it something bad?"

"I'd rather not tell you over the phone, Sherry. So will you swing by?"

I saw no point in delaying the inevitable. Sooner or later, I would have to do it, and I learned a long time ago that it was best to face something unpleasant and get it over with as quickly as possible. Besides, I was a bit curious about what it was that John didn't want to tell me over the phone.

"Sure, we'll be there." After I hung up, I told Ben what was in the wind.

"What did he mean by he's found 'something'?" Ben asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine. Is there some chance you might have missed something?"

Ben shook his head firmly. "I didn't miss nothin,' I'm sure of it." He was trying to be reassuring but I saw doubt in his pale blue eyes. "C'mon, let's get this over with."

He helped me on with my coat and we left the apartment. "Don't worry about it, babe. If whatever he found was serious, or proved you did it, he woulda been at our door with guns drawn. Aw, shit. I didn't mean it like that."

As Ben was still a member of Don Battaglio's crew, he had to attend the funeral. I was torn over whether or not I should go as well, but, Ben was my husband, and my place was at his side. Although, I knew Ben well enough that if I refused to attend, he wouldn't have insisted or pressured me.

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The funeral was a real who's who event in Sin City; the governor and mayor was there, even Senator Roarke attended, a son flanking him on either side. The funeral cortege was nothing like residents had ever seen before—twenty limousines filled with immediate family, business associates, and the elite of the Mob underworld were followed by an endless group of expensive dark sedans slowly made its way through the city streets, snarling traffic to no end.

The citizens of Basin City knew very well who was being buried—Richard's murder had been the banner headline in all the state's newspapers since the moment of his death. If there were any who were pissed with being stuck in traffic for hours, they wisely kept their mouths shut and their opinions to themselves. However, the upheaval of their usual routines on this drab and dark fall day, the resilient, long-suffering citizens of Sin City received an unexpected reward—they enjoyed several hours of crime-free streets, as most of the criminals, petty or underworld, were attending the funeral.

Most churches had a coat check area, but only at a Mob funeral would this be turned into one specifically for guns. On the table inside the well-guarded vestibule were there were enough handguns to equip every cop in the city with two or three, at least. It would have been a good thing if that happened—the caliber of the weapons on the table was greater than any police-issued revolver.

Two sentinels in black suits who were checking all the men who came in and put the gun's owner's name on a tag and he would collect it after the service. The women were only subjected to a brief purse inspection before we could enter. I suppose it never occurred to them to check our garters—I knew many women in my old profession who concealed blades on their person that way and knew how to use them.

The church was standing room only; only those who were expressly invited by either Richard's surviving family or who had Mob contacts were allowed to sit in the pews. Ben and I were one of those, although we certainly did not want to be. We were seated close to the front and my eyes were riveted on the polished mahogany casket that rested on a flower-bedecked trolley. It dominated my entire view and the only way I could get any peace was to lower my eyes and stare at my clasped hands in my lap. Ben's arm was on my shoulders and I was grateful for his strength.

Even now, I could not hate Richard Kershaw and what he had done to me. In my early days of prostitution, he had been a friend and more when I needed one. Father figure, friend, lover, he had been all three and left a lasting impression on my memories and feelings that I would never get over. Now he was dead.

My nose was running and I searched in my handbag for a tissue.

"You okay, babe?" Ben whispered.

I shook my head. I could not speak because of the lump in my throat.

"This thing's winding down, thank God. We'll be outta here soon. Hang in there."

Swell, I thought. Once we leave, I have to go to the police station and be given the third degree. Everyone knew that from the governor on down, Basin City Police Department was under intense pressure to solve the case and put Sin City's most famous shyster's murderer behind bars.

The eulogy was coming to a close, although I hadn't digested a word of it. It was surreal; sitting in that packed church watching the funeral service of a man I cared for very deeply.

To give myself something to do, I scanned the crowd and spotted many of Richard's enemies seated at the back of the church, most of them were either staring at the ceiling or broadly smirking when they thought no one was watching them. In front of them were scores of Mafiosos from other parts of the state to Sin City's own. The _capos_, or captains, were older men who preferred to dress in somber colours. The younger men, who made up the crews, were also dressed in dark colours but had showy ties and artfully folded silk handkerchiefs that peeked from their blazer pockets. Next to them were the bull-necked men, affectionately dubbed "the enforcers" who constantly tugged at their shirt collars; they were used to wearing brass knuckles and open-necked shirts than a suit and tie.

Quite a few of the men attending had a scantily dressed and overly made up young woman beside them. I shook my head as some of own memories came to mind. Most of the women I recognized--there wasn't a prostitute in Sin City always knew didn't know who her competition was. All of the whores here would be very well paid to provide horizontal comfort before they returned to their brothel of origin--but that wouldn't happen for hours yet. I knew from experience that after a widely attended occasion such as this, there were going to be many private get-togethers afterward. The men would catch up on business and gossip, renew acquaintances, smoke cigars, and drink enough brandy to sink a battleship before they were ready to close the day with a good hard fuck.

Judging by what I saw, the brothels must have been emptied to supply these men with "escorts." Whorehouses always did a brisk business on important occasions like these, when any self-respecting mobster would never be caught dead coming alone. Parties and weddings were the only time a crime lord and his underlings brought their wives anywhere—their place was at home, minding the children and remaining blissfully ignorant of how their husbands _really_ earned their money.

I turned my attention back to the casket and cringed. It must have been difficult for the mortuary to squeeze Richard's body in there. Richard had been a large man; I wouldn't say he was obese, but he would have had an incredible physique if he were forty pounds lighter. As a result, his weight required his pallbearers be a group of strapping younger men. With a collective grunt, six of the Mob's brawniest heavies hefted the heavy casket onto their shoulders and slowly made their way to the cemetery. Jones was among them; for once, he was not wearing his dark glasses and I saw the tears that sparkled in his eyes. This tempered his usual stoic expression and made him appear like a man, not an automaton. To Jones, Richard had been more than an employer--he had been a friend and a close confidant.

The casket was lowered into the ground and I heard a woman cry out. I turned my head in time to see Francesca, Richard's stout and stately Italian mother, fall to her knees on the ground. She wept, and the sound of her lament could be heard from one end of the churchyard to the other. Her keening moans of overwhelming grief tore at my soul. At the time, I could not imagine what it was like for a mother to see her only child put into the cold earth.

It would be nearly fifty years until I comprehended the scope of the despair she was enduring.

The priest said a few more words and the service was over. Ben left me, saying he was going off to meet someone but didn't invite me to tag along. While I waited until he returned, I pretended to busy myself with reading the fading names on the century-old tombstones until I saw the dates of their deaths. I was saddened to see how many children were buried here; many had died before their fifth birthday. It should be a sin for mothers to have to bury their children, I thought.

I straightened up and groaned when I saw Jones and Don Battaglio coming towards me. To my surprise, Sin City's most powerful mobster gave me a kiss on each cheek and hugged me. To anyone watching us, it looked as if he was murmuring condolences in my ear but he was not.

"I know you killed him, Sherry. I don't know how you accomplished that, but I give you my word that I will not rest until you are tried for his murder."

"The police never found one scrap of evidence against me," I hissed.

"Just because they didn't find any evidence, does not mean that there was no evidence to be _found_. Evidence can be destroyed or hidden—I've done it many times. Richard Kershaw was a made man. Because of you, my men now have a bigger chance of going to prison."

I was furious and too damn angry to be cautious. "They should _all_ be in jail, especially you! How many good cops are lying in their graves because of your organization?"

"All things considered, not nearly enough," sneered the Don.

"Bastard!" My hand lashed out and caught the fat Italian-American unawares. His jowly cheeks and wattle shook from the force of my slap.

"I will take great pleasure in making you pay for that."

"Anytime, anywhere, asshole," I said, tossing my head in what I hoped was an unconcerned gesture. In reality, I was scared shitless, but I was damned if I was going to let this gangster know that.

"I've learned that a good cop is someone who hasn't received a large enough bribe. And as for my men who should be jailed for their crimes, your husband would rank among that number as well. Do you know how many serious crimes he's committed since coming into my employ?"

I raised my hand to strike him again but Jones stepped forward and held my wrist in an iron grip. "Sherry, we are friends. And as your friend, I'm asking you to back off, OK?" he reached down and touched his sidearm. "Please?"

I clenched my hands so hard that my knuckles were white from strain. I knew that as long as I didn't move toward the Don, Jones would not shoot me. But the leader of all criminal activity in Sin City had other ideas.

"You big oaf, don't just stand there, shoot her!"

Jones turned his steely stoic gaze on his employer, intimidating him with his physical size and his deceptively mild tone of voice. "She is no threat to you, sir. I won't shoot her." Jones looked over at me. "I think it's best if you leave, Sherry."

I didn't have to be told twice. Once we got in the car, Ben and I headed to the police station. From time to time, Ben reached over to squeeze my knee comfortingly, although he never said a word. He knew I had enough on my mind.


	22. The Interrogation

The Interrogation

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the Sin City franchise, etc. Special thanks to TLH for helping me out with this chapter.

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I felt nothing when Ben opened the car door for me and helped me out. I felt nothing when I heard the heavy door of the police station slam shut behind me. I felt no emotion when John Hardigan took my elbow and led me to the interrogation room.

"Can Ben come too?" I asked.

John shook his head. "No, but you can see him when you come out. After you're done, I'll have to question him as well."

"Why does it have to be you? Can't someone else do it?"

"No, I have to because Ben is one of my oldest friends and I would know better than anyone if he's lying…"

My temper flared up. "How _dare_ you call Ben a liar!"

John put up his hand and I fell silent. "Look Sherry, the longer we stand here debating the issue, the longer this whole thing will drag on. If you want a lawyer, it is your right to have one present when you are being questioned."

I gnawed the inside of my lip as I thought it over. When I was a kid, my dad told me over and over again that asking for a lawyer during questioning was not an admission of guilt. It was ironic that the best defense lawyer I could have asked for was now lying six feet underground, becoming a worm feast because of me. It took all my willpower not to smile at the thought. "I don't need one."

"Let's start from the beginning, Sherry. I know the party started at seven. When did Richard start talking to you?"

"As soon as I came in the door. Jones was the one who escorted me."

"During the course of the evening, did Richard make any interesting comments that you can remember? Did he talk to anyone in particular?"

I grimaced. "He was the host, after all. He spoke to a lot of people but I didn't pay attention…I wanted to dance."

"What time did you leave the party with the deceased?"

"I didn't have a watch, so I don't know. I was pretty drunk."

"So I've heard. If you had to approximate the time, what would you say?"

"About ten thirty, eleven o'clock."

"How long were you in the study until the arrival of Don Battaglio?"

This question I could answer completely truthfully. "Not long. About thirty minutes or so."

"Why did you leave?"

I scoffed. "The Don told me that he had business with Richard and that I should leave because women had 'no place in business discussions.' Asshole."

John's mouth twitched as he suppressed a smile. "Where did you go when he got there?"

"I grabbed something to eat at the midnight buffet."

"And what did you do afterward?"

"I went back into the study. Richard and I talked."

"Then what?"

"I felt sick. I rushed outside because I knew Richard well enough to know that he wouldn't like it if I got sick in his house, especially in front of his guests. Do you remember the rug in his study?"

John nodded and whistled. "I sure did. Persian, I think."

I nodded. "He liked to own expensive things and I knew he'd be royally pissed if I barfed on it. My nausea came on so quick, that even if I ran full speed, I never would have made it to the bathroom in time. My only choice was to run outside but I still managed to puke all over myself." I knew I was on shaky ground and I had to watch every word I said. "I sat there for a while. The next thing I remember is waking up in the card room." I fingered my chin.

"Who might have had a grudge against Richard? Did he ever tell you who might want him dead?"

"The only name he specifically mentioned was Roarke's." That certainly was true. Richard told me many times how much the Senator hated him. The feeling was mutual and I couldn't imagine Roarke losing any sleep over his rival's death.

"Did Richard ever discuss his business with you? You know, pillow talk?"

"No. I did ask him once and he said that the less I knew about his affairs, the safer I'd be."

"It sounds like he cared for you."

The statement was like a knife through my heart. We did care about each other a great deal once upon a million years ago. "He was married…but I was nothing more than a whore to warm his bed when he was horny."

"That's not what I heard. And you just contradicted yourself by saying that. If you were just his bed warmer, he wouldn't have given a damn about he said around you."

"So? What difference does that make now? Sometimes men just want a woman to listen to him. I gave him what his wife wouldn't. She was too busy with her charities and maintaining her place at the top of Sin City's elite social circles to pay attention to his needs."

"Your relationship went deeper than just sex, didn't it?"

"Yes. After a while, I began to think of him as a friend, not just a customer." I felt no shame at what I had been, but I felt no pride either.

"Richard dropped everything and came to your bedside when you tried to kill yourself, didn't he?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Yes."

"Did you love him?"

I hated saying the words, but I had to be honest. "I thought I did. But once I met Ben, I realized who it was that I really loved."

"I'd like you to take a look at these," John said, sliding a large file folder across the interrogation desk towards me. He opened it and as soon as I saw what was inside, I hurled the folder on the floor. In all the hubbub of the last week, I had forgotten about the intimate photos of Richard and myself. "We found these under the sofa in the study. You want to talk about it, Sherry?" John asked, his tone gentle.

"When Ben was in Korea, Richard came over to dinner one night. I'd had too much to drink…and it's all there," I said, gesturing to the photos that were now on the floor. "Richard sent those to Ben on our wedding night. Ben got angry and…"

"He raped you, and you lost the baby you were carrying," John finished softly.

I nodded my head. I couldn't see Hardigan's face through the blur of my tears.

"It still hurts, doesn't it?"

I wasn't sure if he was referring to being raped or losing my unborn baby and I nodded my head again. Ben would never know the full extent of his actions when he took me by force. I would take those never-ending feelings of betrayal and hurt to my grave.

"Richard set you up for his own gain. He betrayed your trust. He was responsible for your miscarriage. From any woman's point of view, those are two very good reasons for wanting him dead."

"No matter how angry I was, killing Richard wouldn't have brought my baby back." I wanted to change the subject but John did it for me.

"I would like to ask you something else: have you heard from your stepfather?"

"_What?"_ I wasn't aware that I screeched. The question came out of left field like a lightning bolt from a clear blue sky. I was completely unprepared. I could feel the blood drain from my face and I heard a buzzing noise in my ears that reminded me of the morning I lost my baby. John was watching me carefully—he couldn't help but notice my reaction. I took several deep, steady breaths and I felt better.

There was no sense lying to him if I could help it. "I haven't seen or heard from my Uncle Tom in a while now." Which certainly was true: the last time I saw him was at the carnival, being put into the backseat of his own cruiser. "Why?"

John Hardigan shrugged. "I was just asking."

"Let me tell you about my relationship with my stepfather. When my mother was dying of cancer and he couldn't fuck her anymore, he'd come to my bed while she was zonked out on painkillers. He raped me. He even fucked me against the wall on the day of her funeral. That night, he was going to come after me again. With my mother dead and buried, there would be no one to stop him. Unless I wanted to be raped on a daily basis, I had to leave. When he came to my room, I was ready for him. I knocked him out with a lamp, stole his wallet, and bought a bus ticket here. Rita found me and that's when I started my life as a whore."

"I'm sorry, Sherry. I didn't know."

"Now you do." I folded my arms and glared at my interrogator.

"Tom Dekker hasn't been seen or heard of in Granite Falls for quite some time. I've been in contact with the police department there."

"Has Uncle Tom been looking for me?" I was careful to refer to that rat bastard in the present tense. It had to look like I thought he was still alive.

"Yes, but he didn't have any luck. Then about two months ago, he got a report that you were here and…um, earning a living as a prostitute. He asked for a leave of absence and came here to find you and bring you back to Granite Falls. That's the last time anyone has heard from him."

"Like I said, the last time I saw him, he was knocked out. And you can put this on record: I do not want to see that bastard ever again." Since Uncle Tom was dead and had been underwater for nearly two months, it was no lie when I said I never wanted to see him again!

John smiled. "I've done some investigating on my own. Your Uncle Tom was as dirty a cop as I've ever heard—taking kickbacks, misplacing or destroying evidence when it suited his purpose. Cops like him give the rest of us a bad name. I told them I would keep an eye out for you, but I never said I'd let them know where you were." He scribbled a few notes on his notepad and snapped it shut. "That's all the questions I have for you, Sherry."

My curiosity got the better of me. It had been niggling at the back of my mind like a persistent itch that I couldn't reach. John hadn't mentioned it yet but I couldn't resist bringing it up. "What about what you mentioned on the phone?"

John shook his head. "That _was_ something else. Something I've never seen in all my years as a cop. Are you sure you want to know? It's…horrible."

After a build-up like that, I wanted to know more than anything. I nodded my head. I wondered what it was as I watched John leave the room. He returned a moment later with another file folder tucked under his arm. He gave me the folder but didn't say anything. I looked at the pictures and frowned, trying to digest what I was seeing. It was a small, furnished living room. Other pictures showed a bedroom with a canopy bed, a bathroom, and a small eating area. Another photo showed a closet full of women's clothes. What could be horrible about this?

"I don't get it," I said. "It looks like a cheap apartment."

"It is and it isn't. We found this room in the cellar of Richard's estate. It was for you. The clothes had shoes are all in your size. The magazines and books were something that only a teenage girl like would want to read. Since you were the only teenage girl in Kershaw's life, I put two and two together. There were other clues as well. It's my professional opinion that he was going to keep you there—against your will."

"'Against my will?' You mean…as a prisoner? How the hell do you know that?"

John guided my attention to the photographs that I hadn't looked at yet. The ones at the back of the file. Each one showed locks and deadbolts on the _outside_ of the door. There was more. I didn't know much about electricity but I recognized a fuse box when I saw one and it was located on the same side of the door as the locks; so were several light switches.

As I looked through the pictures, I realized that there were no windows. The implication of that, coupled with the locks and light switches on the wrong side of the door, made me realize the truth: these rooms were a prison, a jail cell, a dungeon.

John's forehead was furrowed, as if he was puzzled about something. "What I don't understand is how he thought he was going to get away with it. Surely it must have occurred to him that Ben would look for you."

I knew exactly how Richard would have succeeded—having Ben executed for the murder of Constable Tom Dekker. Once my husband was dead and buried, there would be no one who would report me as missing.

"All this time, I thought I knew him but I didn't. I never had a clue who he really was. He told me that even though he cheated on his wife, he loved her. Now I find out he shot her like a dog right between the eyes and he was going to keep me prisoner in his cellar. How could I have been so stupid? _How_?"

"There's more."

There was something in John's tone that made me stop looking at the photographs and take notice. When I looked up, there was an expression in his eyes that frightened me.

"Adjoining the bedroom, there was a delivery room set up: complete with up-to-date medical equipment as well as a gynecological exam chair. We found a large quantity of drugs as well. Cocaine, painkillers, sedatives…any drug that is used to keep a person controlled and calm was there."

"Oh God," I whispered. On the night I killed him, Richard told me he was going to make me bear his children but I hadn't believed it. His tortured words from another time came back to me, ricocheting through my head like a pinball as it bounced back and forth from the bumpers over and over again.

"_Don't marry Ben, Sherry, marry me!"_

He was going to imprison me! He was going to use drugs to control me, to make me do what he wanted! Steel locks on the door imprisoning me. Heavy concrete walls swallowing my screams. Darkness and cold enveloping me as lights and warmth were turned off. Once I was down in that room, I would be at his mercy. Richard was vindictive enough to have denied me food and warmth and light if I displeased him.

My senses began to swirl—sound and sight faded in and out. I felt a rush of air then a burst of pain as my head hit something hard. Dust from an unswept floor filled my nostrils but I was too disoriented to lift my head. The hard concrete floor felt cool under my cheek. I opened my eyes and was surprised to see that everything was sideways. I saw a man's feet come towards me then move away.

My brain started to play tricks on me and I imagined that Richard was leaving me in this horrible, dank cage. I tried to get to my knees but I was too weak. I arched my neck and saw that the door was closing.

NO!

At all costs, I had to catch the door before it closed and I was left alone in the dark and the cold. I felt the walls closing in, my chest constricting painfully as if as if I were in the deadly clutches of one of those huge snakes in the Amazon who squeezed the life out of their prey before devouring them whole.

Richard would be free to fuck me as many times as his twisted heart desired and there would be no one to stop him. As if it were happening at that moment, I imagined Richard's heavy, sweaty body on mine, preventing me from moving. Arms tried to restrain me but I fought them off. Richard was going to rape me again. No! I wouldn't let him, not even if it killed me!

With my last scrap of dwindling strength, I clawed at the pale blur of a man's face as it hovered above me. But instead of being beaten as I expected, I felt strong arms pick me up. I was gently cradled against a man's hard, powerful body.

"Breathe for me, babe. Breathe for me…" Ben said softly. Against all the odds, despite Richard's best efforts at keeping me hidden, Ben had found me! I wanted to obey my husband's request to breathe, but I couldn't. My mouth gaped open and shut like a goldfish out of water.

"She's turning blue! We need a goddamn doctor now!" someone shouted. Dimly I heard pandemonium fill the room. I was dying but I wasn't afraid. My life was going to end in the only place in the world where I felt completely safe: the arms of the love of my life.

"No, I got it," Ben said, interrupting my thoughts. He took a deep breath that reverberated through his chest and pinched my nostrils shut before lowering his mouth onto mine, sealing it. He didn't kiss me as I expected…instead, he blew life-giving air deep into my lungs. He withdrew, releasing my nose and I coughed as I finally obeyed my body's instinctive, desperate command to breathe. I arched my back, gasping, trying to take in as much air as I could as fast as possible.

"Nice and slow. Easy does it. In and out…there you go, you're doin' fine." His voice was calm and steady and I felt at peace. "Hardigan, get her some water, will ya?"

A short time later, I felt a glass of cool water being pressed gently against my lips. "Drink up, babe." Ben held the glass until I had drunk my fill. Sense and sanity eventually returned to my body and mind. I was so weak that if I told myself to lift a hand to save my life, I would be unable to do it.

"Is it all right if I take her home now?"

I opened my eyes and saw John Hardigan squatting on the floor on the other side of me. His face was a chalky white and his head bobbed as he nodded. He wiped his glistening forehead with a hand that shook. "Yeah. I'm done here. You're both free to go."


	23. Weak and Tired

Weak and Tired

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the Sin City franchise.

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Ben carried me out of the interrogation room and into the police station staff break room, and placed me on an ugly but soft sofa. My entire body was drenched in a cold sweat and my teeth were chattering. I heard John Hardigan call for blankets and it wasn't long before I was wrapped in a cocoon of warmth.

A tall thin man with a medical bag came in to look at me. "Hello, Sherry. My name is Doctor Lecter. I am a psychiatrist and was in the building when Lieutenant Hardigan called me to see how you were. How are you feeling?"

"I don't need to see a shrink, I just fainted."

He smiled and I felt at ease. "You hit your head pretty hard. In case you didn't know, shrinks are also medical doctors. Our specialty is the mind, of course, but we also know how the body works. We can make diagnoses as well as any doctor in a hospital emergency room. Now, how are you feeling?"

"Weak. And tired."

"That's perfectly understandable."

"What happened to me? Why did I collapse?"

"Without a full examination and blood tests, I can't say for sure. Have you been under a lot of stress lately?"

I wanted to say: 'Yes, Doctor. I _have_ been under a hell of a lot of stress. I stabbed a man four times, watched him die before my very eyes, washed his dried blood from my body, destroyed all evidence of my crime, and not only did I have to attend his funeral today, I was threatened by the most dangerous man in the state....but other than that, my life's been peachy.'

But I didn't. Instead, I said: "Today, I had to attend the funeral of a man I once considered a friend. Less than an hour ago, I found out that he was going to put me in a cage in his basement. I guess I freaked out."

"Just to be on the safe side, you'll have to go to the hospital for tests and x-rays. I'll do a basic exam to see if you've really hurt your head." He removed a pen light from his medical bag and shone it in my eyes. "Pupils are normal. Good. Now, follow my finger with your eyes. No, don't turn your head, just move your eyes. Good responses. Are you nauseous or dizzy?"

"A little of both. Is that bad?"

"It's common with head injuries. The symptoms usually fade. So far, I see nothing to alarm me but as I said, you should have x-rays to rule out anything serious." Dr. Lecter's eyes twinkled. "Is it possible that you're pregnant?"

"I--I don't know."

"Why are you crying? Was it something I said?" Dr. Lecter looked concerned. "Please tell me."

Because I was bawling, it took a while before I could get the words out. "On the night of my party, I was raped by the host. Earlier that night, I made love with my husband. Oh God, what if I'm pregnant? Whose baby is it? What am I gonna do?" I felt my hand being taken. I looked up and saw that Dr. Lecter's eyes were kind and full of sympathy.

"Let's not worry until we have to, all right? We don't even know if you are pregnant and it is much too early to tell yet. How long ago did these encounters happen?"

"A week."

Doctor Lecter looked relieved. "Then I can say with 99.99% certainty that that wasn't why you fainted. You had a severe emotional shock today; not only being interrogated but also what you learned about this man and what his intentions were. Your husband has been pacing the hall like an expectant father but he can come in now. Until the ambulance gets here, he can stay with you. I'll make sure you can be alone." He went to the door and Ben was inside the room like a shot.

"How is she, Doctor?"

"I think she'll be okay but she should go to the hospital just to be sure. I'm going to call an ambulance. Don't upset her, all right? She's been through enough."

Ben nodded and sat beside me. "How are you, babe? You feeling better?"

I waited until the doctor had left and we were alone before I spoke. I felt scalding tears trail down my frozen face. "He was going to lock me away. He was going to rape me over and over until I conceived…" I couldn't speak. I sobbed, burying my face in the front of Ben's shirt, soaking it with my tears.

Ben whispered in my ear. "But we got him, didn't we? The bastard won't hurt you again."

The only thing that was keeping me from losing it completely was knowing my husband was at my side. "What if I'm already pregnant?" I asked. I felt Ben's lips kiss my forehead but he didn't say anything.

There was a discreet knock at the door and the psychiatrist re-entered the room. "The ambulance will be here in a moment," he said.

Ben stood up and unconsciously shook the Doctor's hand with enough force to make the highly educated man wince. "Sorry, Doc. I didn't mean to hurt you or anything." The smile evaporated from Ben's face as John Hardigan came in.

"Get the hell out of here, John! You wanna upset Sherry again? If you take one more step towards her, I swear to God, I'll beat the shit out of you…"

"I didn't come here to cause either of you any trouble," John said. "I just wanted to see if she's all right."

"I'm fine," I said crisply. "So why don't you just leave? Aren't there other female suspects you can terrorize?" I regretted the words as soon as they came out of my mouth but I couldn't take them back.

John Hardigan had only been doing his job—he had had no choice but to question me. And as interrogators went, he had been gentle and understanding, considering almost every word I said had been a bald-faced lie. It wasn't his fault that Richard Kershaw had turned into a monster. Still, my conscience pricked me; I had to say something. "John, I'm sorry. It's just been a really bad day for me."

His face softened and in a few long strides, he was at my side and I was in his arms. We made our peace in silence. We withdrew from each other, embarrassed. To cover our awkwardness until the moment passed and we were at our ease again, Ben shook John's hand and slapped him on the shoulder.

"You are one of my oldest friends," Ben began, his voice rough with sentiment, "and I owe you an apology too. I'm sorry, man. I had no right to say…"

"Don't apologize, Ben. I'd do the same if my wife reacted the same way. I'll swing by your place later because…Look, the ambulance is here. "

lll

I was glad that my ordeal was over. I had been poked and prodded, stuck with needles and told to pee in a cup. I was in my own bed and just waking from a well-deserved nap when I heard Ben speaking to someone in the living room.

I knew it was John and when Ben didn't come to tell me he was here, I stole out of bed and tiptoed to the door so I could listen in on their conversation.

"…I brought something from that hellhole to Sherry. She'll want to see it. It will make her feel better."

"It sure will," Ben replied. "Damn that bastard! How could he even think of doing that to her?"

"I didn't get to show her all the pictures we took of that cell. Look at what else we found."

"Jesus Christ!" Ben exclaimed, his voice loud and clear even through the walls. "If Sherry ever found out about this, she'll have nightmares! I worked with the guy, John. Once you got to know him, he seemed nice enough. We didn't have much in common, but he seemed to care a lot for Sherry. Boy was I wrong!"

I was burning with curiosity. What the hell were they talking about? What was so bad that I'd get nightmares? Goddamn men! They think that women are poor little helpless beings that need to be protected from the big bad world.

"What happened, do you think? What changed him?"

"Dunno, man. This beats the hell out of me. You wanna drink?"

"Thanks, Ben. Why don't we go out?"

"Good idea. We won't disturb Sherry and we can talk."

As quietly as I could, I snuck back to my bed and barely had the covers pulled over me when Ben came in. I heard him open the door. Through half-closed lids, I saw him poke his head in the door.

"Babe? You awake?" he whispered.

I made no move and made sure that I took deep slow breaths. I wanted Ben to think I was still sound asleep—if he thought I was, only then would he leave, and then I could finally see what was so damn interesting in the living room.

After a long moment, Ben closed the door. I waited until I heard both men leave the apartment before I got out of bed. Ever since I was a little girl, I was told I was too curious for my own good—curiosity killed the cat, as the old saying went.

Now I knew the sordid and perverted depths Richard had sunk to. It hadn't been enough for him to build a cell for me in the basement of his estate; he was going to chain me to the bed. Oh God…

For the second time that day, I started bawling. On the night I clubbed my stepfather and ran, I hadn't taken anything with me.

On the coffee table, there were four photo albums, each one full of pictures I thought I would never see again. My dad teaching me to ride a bike; my first day of school; pictures of my first Christmas pageant…. Most dear to me were the snapshots of my mom when she was fit and healthy and my dad was still alive.

I wept at my lost childhood. Girls my age were planning for their proms and graduations, kissing boys for the first time, trying on makeup… Less than six months ago, I had only been fourteen and casting my first shy looks at boys. Without warning, I was cast down into Hell where I was forced to satisfy the darkest desires of men. Men like Uncle Tom and Roarke and countless other faceless, nameless bastards.

As bad as my early life in Sin City had been, I had to be honest: not all the men who paid for me were twisted or evil. Like Jones, some of them had been quiet, decent men who would never dream of hurting me; perhaps because I was a reminder of a long-lost love or a beloved dead wife.

Because of loneliness or the desperate desire for a woman's warmth, they came to me. Call it pity or compassion; I never turned those men away. I knew all too well what being truly isolated and alone was like; I had spent too many sleepless nights at Momma's yearning to feel warm flesh against mine in bed, to escape--however temporarily--from the empty black void that was my life.

Because of my age, these men felt young and virile again. I restored their self-confidence. Another reason for my popularity with older men was that many of these poor souls only wanted to talk. They wanted a woman to listen to them; telling me things they would never reveal to anyone else.

It took a while but eventually I stopped feeling sorry for myself. While it was true that I had to grow up a lot sooner than I ever dreamed of, I had something those other girls didn't: I knew what it meant to love. I knew what it meant to have a man love me.

Ben and Richard taught me what it meant to be a woman—to be held and loved, reaching the heights of shared sexual pleasure…However, I couldn't forget that it was also Ben and Richard who betrayed me. They used their larger size against me--pinning me down, forcing my legs apart, each thrust of their hard cocks ripping me apart, making me wish for death, humiliating me by calling me filthy names…Whore. Slut. Cunt.

I shook my head to clear it. What was done was done and it wouldn't do me any good to remember the past. Ahead of me was my future—I had a roof over my head and a husband who loved me. And with any luck, I was already carrying his child.

That night, I lay in my husband's arms and contemplated my life and what brought me to this point. It was ironic that out of pain and misery and heartache, I found love. Unconditional, unshakable love. Ben loved me enough to hide and destroy all of the evidence of my guilt in the murder of a top Mob lawyer—that had to count for something.

lll

Author's Note: This chapter did not turn out as well as I had hoped, but I am posting it anyway.


	24. Meeting With the Devil

Meeting With the Devil

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the Sin City franchise and I'm not making any money from this.

Author's Note: I noticed from the movie that there seemed to be a big age gap between the two Roarke sons and that's where I got the inspiration for this plot bunny. Enjoy! Also, this chapter is dedicated to LUVYDUVY, RomRomz, wannabanauthor (my faithful reviewers--thank you!!) and The Lone Hunter, my terrific beta! I hope all of you you like this chapter!

lll

The Mob offered a one hundred thousand dollar reward for any information on the murder of Richard Kershaw but it went unclaimed. It was widely rumoured around Sin City that every Mob snitch was told to keep his eyes and ears open for any kind of information, but they heard nothing. How could they? No one knew the truth except me and Ben. And after everything he'd done for me, he sure as hell wouldn't spill the beans.

As the days passed and there was no one coming to arrest Ben, I realized that Richard hadn't told Don Battaglio anything about where my Uncle Tom's body was. I breathed easier.

"I've called the Senator and made an appointment to see him," Ben announced one morning after breakfast. "I figured that since I'm not working for the Mob anymore, I might as well see if I can get my old job back. You're not mad at me, are ya, Sherry?"

I swallowed my mouthful of coffee and pondered my next words carefully. Ben was looking at me with such hope and dread, as if he were a child and wasn't sure if telling the truth to an adult would be bad or good.

I had a good idea that he wanted me to be happy about the news and I would be for his sake. I knew damn well that he hated working for the Mob. Working for Roarke again would be an improvement.

"No, I'm not mad. I'm glad. Will the Mob let you go?"

Ben shrugged. "I wasn't a made man, thank God, and I didn't swear the Oath of Loyalty so it's not like I bound myself to them for life."

"Do you think Roarke will meet with you?"

Ben grinned. "It took me a while to get past the pit bull that screens all his calls, but I managed to speak with him personally. I told him I found some stuff in Kershaw's safe that he might be interested in. Roarke took the bait and told me to come to his office tomorrow. "Will you come with me?"

I nodded. My place was at Ben's side and even though I wanted never to see Roarke again, I realized that he wasn't going to do anything to me if my strong, strapping husband was there beside me.

A couple of days after Richard's funeral, Ben showed me the documents he had taken. Despite the fact that on the night of the murder, he had had a very short time to select which file to take, the ones he had chosen from the Roarke dossier were pure gold.

Like several generations of Roarke men before him, the youngest son had inherited an insatiable appetite for sex. "Feed 'em, fuck 'em, and forget 'em," was the unofficial Roarke family motto when it came to women. From my own experience, I knew that it didn't matter to the Roarke men if sex was consensual or not. Instead, they seemed to thrive on hurting a woman during sex. I've always wondered if the Roarke men could even get a hard-on if the woman beneath them did not cry or beg.

True to his bloodline, Roarke's younger son spread his seed far and wide through countless women. This time, however, one brave woman chose to bear his child instead of aborting it as many others had done. A son was born. Whether or not his father or his grandfather knew about the boy was unknown, but after reading the document, Ben and I figured out that it wasn't likely.

A proud man like Roarke, who, under the custom-made suit and polished manners, was still a family man. With two grown sons, one of them destined to a life of celibacy in the Catholic Church, it was only natural that his proud old mind automatically looked to the future when he could cradle his younger son's child—his grandchild--in his arms.

lll

As I expected, Roarke made us wait for hours before he allowed us into his office. Like everything the family owned, the office was sumptuous and elegant, as if reminding his visitors how rich and powerful he was.

When we were ushered into his office, I smiled a bit when I saw the size of his desk. Solid and expensive, it was specifically built to impress anyone who saw it for the first time. But I wasn't. I hadn't come here to gawk at the furniture.

Ben and I remained standing as there were no seats for us. I had no objection; the faster this interview went, the faster we could get out of there. Being on his own turf, Roarke immediately took control of the meeting.

"Well, Ben? Why did you want to see me?"

"I've got some information that you might find interesting," Ben said. "As a matter of fact—"

Roarke interrupted before Ben could finish his sentence. "You were an employee for years and that's the only reason I'm even seeing you today. I don't have all day. I've got a golf game with the governor in an hour."

The Senator's condescension toward my husband was making me angry. I took the file out of Ben's jacket and slid it over to Roarke. "Put this in your pipe and smoke it, asshole," I said.

It was a joint decision between myself and Ben to remove any information or photographs that identified the mother or would allow anyone to find her. Las Vegas was one of the few cities in America that was the perfect place for someone to go if they wanted to disappear. As long as the boy's mother kept under the radar, it was unlikely that the Roarke family would find her. Being of limited resources, she had to live in the bad part of town; as long as she stayed away from the Strip, she wasn't likely to meet her baby's father or grandfather even if they did go to the city.

"Ben also knows about the Mob's contacts and resources in Sin City," I added as an incentive.

I knew enough about powerful men to know that Roarke was certainly interested in finding ways to make even more money. His main competition in cornering the market in brothels and drugs in Sin City was the Mob. Ben had sound inside information that would add a lot to the Roarke family fortunes if he told them what he knew.

However, like all good strategists, Roarke tried to appear as if he cared less. He looked through the file for a few moments and with a sneer twisting his handsome face, tossed it across his desk back to Ben. "So my son fucked a piece of trash cocktail waitress in Vegas, got her pregnant and she had the kid. So what? My legitimate heirs—my boys--are the most important to me; I could care less about some brat who comes from the wrong side of the sheets."

"That brat, who 'comes from the wrong side of the sheets,' as you put it, is still half Roarke," I reminded him. "Blood is blood and a grandchild is still a grandchild. A part of you is in that baby. He or she could have your eyes or your cleft chin. Hell, it could even have that big Roman nose that seems to run in your family. Don't you get it? Or are you too concerned with making sure the only grandchildren you recognize are the ones whose mothers have blood as blue as yours?"

I knew I had my answer when I saw the Senator roll his eyes and I lost my temper.

"Considering that your eldest son is going to have a career in the Church, you're not going to get any grandchildren from him. Your only chance to be a grandfather is through your other son. What if something happens to him? In that case, there will be no one to carry on the Roarke name that you're so fucking proud of!"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Roarke drawled, giving me a sly grin and a wink, "I may father another child someday. As you found out in my bedroom, I can certainly rise to the occasion."

I was so angry, I saw red. I took a step towards him but Ben held me back. He shook his head slightly and he quietly reminded me that we hadn't come here to dredge up the past. Ben was right but deep down I was furious that Roarke could refer to my gang rape so casually.

I had one more ace up my sleeve. "You have a lot of enemies, Senator. Ben is the best at what he does. Under his watch, did anyone ever get that close to you before? Hell no! Without him watching your back, who is going to stop your next enemy from using your sons as target practice? Anyone determined enough to hurt you will get a gun past your so-called security team and you know it. Maybe someone you screwed will blow one of your boys' heads off and do our state a great service. And if that happens, I hope you are there to see it and remember this conversation."

Now it was his turn to get angry. I knew I had pushed Roarke's buttons when his face turned purple and veins stood out on his forehead and neck. "Ben, get yourself and your little slut the hell out of my office!"

Ben shrugged. "She's got a point."

"Get the hell out of my office! NOW!" Roarke jabbed his finger hard on the intercom to his secretary's line. "Louise, I want security in here to dispose of two pieces of trash, right fucking now!"

Ben sneered. "Bring 'em on! I can beat anyone you've got and you know it."

I took Ben's arm and tugged him toward the door. He wasn't armed and there was a good chance that the men already pounding their way down the hall were. And that they would have no hesitation of shooting a million holes in Ben at the Senator's slightest nod. "Let's go."

lll

I've never been a superstitious person, but in the years that passed, I have always thought that what happened two days later to Roarke's younger son was one hell of a coincidence.

A new sports arena was being dedicated and the Senator and his younger son were to attending the grand opening. Thousands of people attended and the Senator was in the middle of cutting the ceremonial ribbon when there were raised voices and the sound of a commotion was transmitted through the crowd.

"Hold on, Sherry," Ben said. "Something's up."

"What is it?"

"Dunno, lemme take a look-see."

It was easy for Ben to see what was going on as he towered head and shoulders above the crowd. I couldn't see what Ben was looking at but I knew that look on his face. Something was wrong but before I could ask him anything, I heard the sound of gunfire, following immediately after by screams.

"Gun!" Someone yelled. I felt myself being thrown to the ground.

"Stay down!" Ben said, as he crouched over me, protecting me from being hit. Fear took over my body and I froze where I was. Ben and I were safe for the moment but that wasn't going to last. Screams of fear and panic filled the stadium as thousands of people ran to get out of the line of fire. What began as a peaceful assembly descended quickly into a mob scene.

Ben picked me up in his arms and bodily shoved his way through the crowd until we were at the side where it was quieter. We climbed up two flights of the stairs to the 'B' level of seats.

"You okay, babe?" he asked, his face tight with concern.

I shivered from delayed shock. "Yeah. What the hell happened?"

"Someone took a shot at the Senator, but got his son instead."

"Can you tell how bad it is?"

"I'm no doctor, but even I can tell he's gonna die, if he hasn't already. He took a bullet to the head. Christ, he doesn't even look like a man anymore!" Ben winced and turned away.

I knew my husband had a strong stomach when it came to blood and violence but for something to shake him like this, I knew it had to be bad. I remembered very well what I had yelled in the Senator's face a few days before.

"What about the guy who did it?"

"It looks like the he's trying to make a break for it and with a crowd panicking like this, it's only going to get more dangerous for everybody. The cops are trying to restore some order but it's useless. Roarke's men have their guns out and are going after the guy, but if they're smart, they'll wound him so he can be questioned. At least, that's what I would have recommended if I were in charge."

I flinched as more shots rang out as the Senator's bodyguards opened fire on the escaping assassin. The gunfire only escalated the crowd's desperation to get away.

"No, they got him," Ben said. "And he's full of holes. Now we'll never know who he worked for or who sent him. Damn!"

I could see what was going on. The spectators in front ran forward, preventing anyone from getting to the centre of the madness where the life of a young man was slowly ebbing away.

With my own eyes, I saw the Senator crawl on his belly like a snake in a desperate attempt to reach his son. The Senator's bodyguards tried in vain to get him out of the line of fire, but Roarke refused to leave his son's body. He took his boy into his arms and cradled him like a modern-day pieta.

Ben had been right—it was bad. He was missing half his head and because Roarke had been standing beside him when the shot came, he was covered with his son's brains and bone matter. I saw the Senator try in vain to staunch the bleeding, but the blood streamed from between his fingers in great gushes. The Senator was holding his entire world in his arms and each fading heartbeat from his son soaked his suit and stained his white dress shirt.

High above the chaos and confusion of people screaming for a doctor, I heard the painful and pitiful sound of a father sobbing as he begged his son to hang on. Shortly after, the rafters of the building seemed to shake with his inhuman and heartbreaking screams of grief and complete despair as Roarke realized his son was dead.

Only a parent could make that sound as they mourned for their dead child. I had grieved for my baby like that too. In that moment, Roarke became human and I stopped being afraid of him.

lll

A week after he buried his son, Senator Roarke came knocking at our door. He looked terrible—he hadn't showered or shaved since I saw him at the televised funeral and if I wasn't mistaken, he was still wearing the same suit. He was in a bad way and even though I hated him, I couldn't help but feel sorry for the man. His hair had a lot more grey in it and he looked as if he'd aged twenty years in the space of seven days. There were dark shadows under his eyes.

The three of us sat at my humble kitchen table, an awkward silence that was deafening. I made some black coffee for us all and I saw that my guest's hand shook as he took the cup from me. From the moment I caught the reek of stale brandy that saturated his clothes, I knew that last thing he needed was more alcohol.

The Senator had come here with something on his mind but now that he was where he wanted to be, it was as if he had forgotten why he had come. He was a grieving father now, and without his speechmakers and aides by his side, he didn't know what to say.

"How have you been, Senator?" I asked. I knew it was a stupid question but I couldn't think of anything else to say.

Instead of answering, our state's most powerful man lowered his head into his hands. To Ben's and my surprise and dismay, he began to weep. Without his entourage of bodyguards and lackeys and other hangers-on, he could finally grieve; letting loose the iron grip he had had on his emotions during the last week. Ben and I shifted uncomfortably as we waited for him to regain his composure.

"Sherry, may I speak with you alone?" Senator Roarke asked.

"Nothin' doin'," Ben snarled. "After what you did to her, if you think for one goddamn minute that I'm gonna let you be alone with my wife…."

"I won't hurt her," Roarke replied. "And if you think I would harm her, you can shoot me between the eyes. Trust me, Ben, you'll be doing me a favour." There was a ghost of a wry grin on the politician's face.

"If I do shoot you, it sure as hell won't be between the eyes, Roarke." Ben lowered his eyes and stared at Roarke's belt buckle and they both understood what Ben meant.

"Deal."

"I'm gonna go to the bedroom with my ear to the keyhole, Sherry," Ben said. "And if I hear anything, I swear to God I'll…"

"I'll be all right. He's too old and too drunk to hurt me. Please, will you go?" I said.

"All right, I'm goin'," Ben grumbled.

I waited until I heard the bedroom door close before I spoke. "Why did you want to see me?"

"Because you are—were—a mother and you know what its like to lose a child."

"Yes. Even so, I can't imagine what you are feeling right now. And as much as I despise you and your sons for what they did to me, I wanted to say how sorry I am for your loss."

The Senator looked at me. "You've grown up, haven't you?"

"I guess I have," I admitted. "Since I arrived in Sin City, I've gone through a lot and I've had to become an adult faster than I wanted to."

"My boys and I were responsible for some of that change. Don't deny it and I don't grudge you for rubbing my nose in it. God knows I did the same to you when you came to my office."

"Yes, you did. Six months ago, I probably would have sung out loud and danced a jig if your son died."

"Despite your age, Sherry, you are braver than most adults. Most of the men I have around me wouldn't have half the balls to say something like that to me."

"I'll take that as a compliment," I said, daring to grin a little.

"It's meant as one," he replied. He cocked his head to one side and looked at me. "You're not afraid of me anymore, are you?"

"Nope. Why do you ask?"

"It's just that usually you tremble when I'm close to you but not today."

I raised my chin. "This is my house and I won't allow you or anyone else to control or scare me here."

"That's not entirely true," Roarke said, "because I know what Ben did to you…here in your own house."

I interrupted my guest as I had no wish to go back down that road. "Why are you here?" I snapped.

"I am a proud man, Sherry. I am accustomed to giving an order and having it obeyed instantly and without hesitation. During my entire life, I can count on the fingers of one hand how many times that I've ever had to apologize or admit when I was wrong. This is one of those times and I hope you'll understand how hard this is for me. It wasn't until I saw my son lowered into his grave that I realized you were right. About a lot of things." I had to force myself not to remove my hand when he took it in his. "Blood is blood. And a grandchild is still a grandchild. That boy or girl is all that I have left of my son. From what I saw on those papers, my grandchild is in Las Vegas but I don't know where."

I debated on what to say next. A part of me wanted to dangle hints of the child's gender in front of Roarke like a carrot, but I didn't have to. He brought up the subject himself

"Do you know if it is a boy or girl?"

"Yes I do," I said and offered nothing further.

A hopeful look came into the older man's eyes. "Could—would you tell me?"

"Does it matter if it's a boy or not?" I asked. Proud men like Roarke always tended to prefer girls to boys, since the name is carried on only through the male line. Daughters in families like his tended to be overlooked, except when it came to marriage and they were married into other powerful families, to seal business deals or to secure political connections and alliances.

"No," Roarke said hastily. "I just wanted to know. Is the child healthy? Does he or she have all its fingers and toes?"

"Yes, to both questions," I said. "But the mother is a waitress and they don't have a lot of money." The woman had run halfway across the country to get away from the Roarke family and I was delivering her and her baby back to them for my own benefit. I hated myself for that, for I knew what it was like to live in fear of the Roarke men and what they could do to someone without resources, without a family to protect them. "What about the mother? What will you do with her?"

"I'll give her anything she wants."

"What if all she wants if her baby and to be left alone?"

"Then I will tell her that I can give the child a good life, the best of everything. I am a rich man, Sherry. I can give that boy or girl the best education, a life of privilege…Every mother wants what is best for her child, right?"

"What about love?" I knew he had loved his son—I saw with my own eyes how he acted at the arena as he tenderly cradled his dying boy in his arms. I also remembered the news footage of him collapsing at the gravesite, weeping and keening like the grief-stricken father that he was. But I had to hear it for myself.

The Senator looked away and more tears fell from his eyes. "I always told him that I was proud of him but I never said 'I love you.' That's going to stay with me for the rest of my life. I will not make the same mistake with my grandchild. Does that answer your question?"

"It does. You have a grandson," I said. "And he's perfectly healthy. However, the mother is not."

"What's wrong? Is she sick?" Roarke asked. Either he was the best actor in the world, or else I saw genuine compassion on his face.

"I don't know. The report doesn't say."

"I'll find out," the Senator said firmly. "And when I do, I'll go to Vegas personally and talk to her. May I see the file myself?" Roarke asked.

"Not so fast, Senator. Before you get what you want, I need to get what I want."

"Name it and it's yours."

"Give Ben his old job back."

"Done."

"Get him to work for you somewhere other than here."

"No problem, but I have to ask why do you want to leave Sin City?"

"Because the Mob is out to get me for Richard's murder. And they will use Ben to get to me."

"Were you the one that killed him?"

"Does it matter?" I asked, my stare cool and level.

"No. Me and a lot of other people in this town are extremely grateful to whoever did kill the bastard," the Senator looked me square in the eye for a long moment. He knew the truth. He knew I had killed Richard. "If it hadn't been for his murder, I never would have known that I have a grandson. But in response to your request, consider it done. I have plenty of lucrative positions that Ben could fill in other parts of the country."

"Before we go on, I think Ben should be here with us and we can talk about it. I'll get him." I rose to my feet and went to the bedroom. Ben must have been listening with his ear to the door because as soon as I opened it, it hit him square on the nose. He had done as he'd promised. After seeing that he was all right, I asked, "Were you spying on me?"

"Hell, yeah! Do you think I'd leave you within arm's reach of that bastard again and not try to look out for you any way I could? As long as I'm alive, I'll have your back, babe. Now, let's get back to our guest."


	25. Deal

Deal

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the Sin City franchise and I am not making any money from this story.

Author's Note: As always, a big thanks to all my reviewers: LUVYDUVY, wannabanauthor, RomRomz and TLH.

lll

When Ben and I were seated at the table again, Roarke had a question.

"Do you have a picture of my grandson?"

Ben and I looked at each other. We'd known that our guest would ask us this but we needed to get a few things hammered out before we would agree. As Ben had the most experience with Roarke, he answered the politician's question. "Yeah, we got some."

There was a distinct gleam of grandfatherly eagerness in the Senator's eyes at seeing his son's son, but he refrained from saying anything. Despite being a powerful politician and successful businessman who ruled Sin City with an iron fist, he knew as well as we did that this was one time where his name and status meant nothing. He couldn't call the shots here. As opposed to countless other dealings he had had with people who wanted something from him, this was his turn to be on the other side of the table, to be the one asking for a favour. I smiled smugly to myself as I saw how Roarke despised being put in this position.

For once, the bastard knew what it was like to sweat. And I was glad.

"May I see one?"

"You'll get all of 'em when we get what we want, Roarke, not before."

The Senator was all business again. "What do you want, Ben?"

"We need to leave Sin City, the sooner the better. I need you to give me a job."

"That's a lot to ask considering you dumped me for supposedly greener pastures with the Mob. That obviously didn't work out. So explain to me why should I help you?"

I spoke up. "Because we are the only ones who can point you to your grandchild, that's why. Nobody else knows what we do."

Roarke looked down his nose at me. "Ben is not the only hired muscle I have, Sherry. I could have my men beat it out of you, while your husband watches. It will be only a matter of time before you break."

We had been expecting that Roarke would try something like this. I grinned at Ben who nodded back. He removed a book of matches and a picture from his back pocket and put it in front of the Senator's face so he could see that it was a photo of a newborn baby. His jaw dropped as he saw the unmistakable resemblance the boy bore to his dead son.

"For threatening my wife like you just did, Roarke, this is what you get." Ben could not suppress the slow grin that spread across his face. "This is one of the few snaps of your grandbrat. Because of your stunt just now, you're gonna lose it. Look at it!" He gave the matches and snapshot to me.

Roarke's face went from smug disbelief to heartbreaking reality in the blink of an eye as he saw me light the match and hold it under the photograph. The corner began to blacken and curl and the flame began to lick hungrily at the paper.

He was a proud man, used to calling bluffs. He was tempted to do so again but his heart reached for the picture through the bars of his pride. Even if he had to debase himself to save the picture, he would do it. The Senator uttered an unearthly howl of grief and anger. "No…Don't!" He tried to take the burning photo from me but Ben held him back by putting a brawny arm across Roarke's chest.

"If you play fair, then we'll play fair. If not, the kid's picture burns. Got it?"

Even though Roarke knew it was useless, he tried to break out of Ben's grip. However, in his exhausted and inebriated condition, his struggles did not last long. His face was now covered in sweat. He knew he was beaten. Weakly, Roarke nodded his head, agreeing to our terms. "Please …don't do it."

I licked my fingers and put them on the flame, extinguishing it before giving the picture to the Senator. I saw the proud politician's face crumple when he held the photograph. "He has my eyes…" He closed his own eyes and fought to stay in control of his already faltering emotions. "My boy…my grandson." There was a slight smile on his face as he ran his thumb over the baby's photograph. "How old is he now?"

"Just shy of six months. You'll get the rest of the pictures, the negatives, and the mother's address in Vegas when you deliver what you promised."

"Right." He was already back to his old self. "How about Chicago?"

"No," I stated bluntly and forcefully, before Roarke could blink.

"Las Vegas? I know some people--"

"No."

The Senator scowled. It was obvious that he was not accustomed to being interrupted or hearing the word 'no' thrown back at him so roundly. Hell, it wouldn't have surprised me if he had never heard the word before in his life. I had no doubt he assumed Ben and I would be so grateful for his help that we would jump at his first offer. As if!

"How about New York?"

I shook my head and I saw our guest tighten his jaw at my stubbornness. Did he really think we were that stupid? New York--the Mob capital of America? Was he fucking kidding?

"Detroit. And that's my final offer. Take it or leave it."

I slammed my hands palms down on the table, making Roarke look at me in surprise. "Look, are you trying to get us killed? If we go any one of those places, how long do you think it'll be before the Mob finds us? I thought you were going to play fair, but since you just want to set us up, you can forget about seeing your grandkid--ever! Ben, our guest has outstayed his welcome."

Roarke glanced sideways at Ben, fully expecting that he, as man of the house, would put me in my place. However, we had discussed this thoroughly beforehand and Ben knew what to say and do. Ben got to his feet and clamped a meaty hand hard on the politician's shoulder. "Sorry, pal, but as a married man yourself, you know as well as I do that the women rule the roost. You're leaving now."

"Wait, wait!" Roarke said.

"Those so-called offers of yours were just bullshit and you know it. If we went to any of those cities, we might as well paint a big red bulls-eye on our backs. It would be only a matter of time before the Mob found and killed Sherry and me."

"He doesn't want to help us, Ben. We might as well burn the rest of those pictures up."

"All right, all right," Roarke said hastily. "One was enough. Look, I'm sorry. I was wrong. Just don't do anything hasty. I will do right by you from now on, I promise. Please?"

I nodded to Ben and he took his hand off Roarke's shoulder and gestured he sit down again.

"Let's start over. What location did you have in mind?"

I folded my arms across my chest. "We need to go somewhere where we can disappear. That means it has to be somewhere where the Mob is not. The city needs to be big enough to disappear in, but not small enough that we'd attract any attention. Now do you understand?"

Roarke furrowed his brow as he thought. "New Orleans. I have a shipping company based there."

Ben shrugged at me. As far as either of us knew, other than Miami, the Mob did not have a foothold in any city in the South. It was far enough from Sin City for us to start our new life--we would be free. Ben and I wouldn't have to constantly be looking over our shoulders, always on the alert that we didn't being unwanted attention on ourselves... or wondering when the Mob would find us.

"We'd like to be flown to New Orleans. You have a private plane, you can do it. Besides, after you drop us off, you can pick up the kid in Vegas. Everybody gets something."

My heart sank at Ben's last words. Everyone but the mother was getting something good from our deal. I would always feel guilty for giving Roarke the location of his grandson. If the boy's mother wanted the family to be aware of his existence, she would have told them herself. I was handing her and her son over to the wolves for my own benefit. Oh well. It was too late for any regrets now, I thought, forcing myself to pay attention.

"…good idea. We might as well get things started," Roarke said, getting to his feet. "I'll need your phone and some privacy."

"Nothin' doin'" Ben said. "You can say that you're gonna make a phone call to your associates for us, but we have no way of knowing if you actually will. Nope, Sherry or me'll stay in the room with you."

"You certainly have thought of everything," Roarke said. "All right. Sherry can stay in the room and ensure that I'll keep my word. "Now if you'll lead the way to the phone, Sherry?"

I directed him to our bedroom and closed the door behind me. I did not listen to what he was saying to his associate on the other end, but I did watch to make sure he didn't put his finger on the disconnection button on the phone.

I jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned and sighed in relief when I saw it was Ben. "How's it going?"

"So far, so good, I guess," I replied, ashamed that I hadn't been paying the least bit attention to what Roarke was saying. He could have been talking to Bugs Bunny for all I knew.

The Senator murmured a few more words into the phone and he nodded before hanging up. He turned and saw us. "I've got good news."

"You'd better," Ben warned.

"Everything has been arranged and my jet is being refueled and re-stocked, which usually takes a couple of hours. Once that is done, we will be taking off for Las Vegas and you can get off in New Orleans. That being the case, I would strongly suggest getting your affairs in order in the time you have left. Oh, one more thing: you are never to come back here nor should you contact anyone. If you do either of those things, the Mob will find you."

"I guess we'd better get packin' then," said Ben.

"One more thing," Roarke said. "Once you land in New Orleans, I will not be obligated to help you any further. Agreed?" He extended his hand.

"It's a deal," Ben said as he clasped the Senator's outstretched hand and shook it.

"I do have one more favour to ask," the Senator said. I was surprised to see that he looked almost sheepish. "While you are packing, may I trouble you for a shower and a shave?" He brushed the back of his hand against the week-old stubble that covered his face. "I can't meet my new grandson looking like this."

"Do you want a clean shirt? I can give you one. It won't fit but it'll do."

"No thank you, Ben, I have a suit on the plane. But I appreciate the offer."

"I'll give you a new blade for my razor, if you promise not to slice your throat with it."

Roarke shook his head. "I may have taken you up on that a week ago, but I now have a grandson to live for. Family is everything, Ben."

lll

As I packed my bag, my eyes wandered over my bedroom and couldn't help thinking of everything Ben and I had shared within its four walls. The unimaginable pleasure, the whispered confidences in the dark quiet of night, the heights of ecstasy, and the comfort of feeling my husband's arms around me. As contradictory as it was, the four-poster bed was the focal point of my greatest joy and my greatest suffering.

The idea of leaving Sin City forever made my eyes well up with tears. Aside from Granite Falls, this was the only home I ever knew. I had had many bad experiences here, but because of them, I had met the only man I would ever love.

I had made some friends here—actually, just one. Sable. She was the only friend of my own age. John and Gert were Ben's friends, not mine. After I left the whorehouse, I made sure that Sable and I stayed in contact. She had been a guest at my home on several occasions. I smiled at all the times she had visited; she had been so intimated by my husband, she was constantly ill at ease in his presence. As a courtesy to me, Ben had left the apartment so we could be alone. I couldn't even say goodbye to her.

"You done, babe?" Ben asked softly.

"Yeah," I replied as I shut my suitcase. "Let's go."

The Senator was in our living room and looking wonderfully refreshed after his ablution. Once he got into some clean clothes on the jet, he would almost look as good as new.

On the way to the airport, Ben stared out of the limousine windows, taking his last looks at the city. He didn't say anything but I knew that he didn't like the idea of leaving--he had grown up in Sin City and had good friends here. Because of me, he was being banished forever from the city of his youth.

Once we were on the plane, we would give Roarke the file; once he'd kept his word, we would keep ours.


	26. Newlywed Blues in The Big Easy

Newlywed Blues in the Big Easy

Disclaimer: I don't own anything whatsoever associated with the Sin City franchise and I'm not making any money from this.

A/N: A big thanks to TLH, who pointed out several glaring mistakes that I missed the first time around—thanks!

lll

New Orleans was a world of contrasts to Sin City—it had a wealth of grace and history that the bustling Northern city could never obtain, not in a million years. I fell in love with my new home almost immediately. It was so different from anything else I had ever experienced. It wasn't just the slower pace of day-to-day living that I liked, it was the entire atmosphere. Just by looking at the cobblestone streets and building styles, one could tell that the French language and culture gave this nearly three hundred year old city a unique Old World flavour right in the heart of America.

The architecture was completely different—here, buildings were created to be beautiful and pleasing to the eye. In the city we had just fled, buildings were strictly functional. In the business district, each high rise was designed to be exactly like its neighbors—cold and bleak; a cookie cutter monotony of glass and steel. No beauty or originality anywhere, except perhaps, in the Sacred Oaks area where modern copies of Edwardian and Victorian-like homes flourished. In older cities of the South, like New Orleans, were the originals.

I was surprised when I saw that men tipped their hats and opened doors for women. No man had ever done that for me before and I found that I enjoyed these displays of deference. In my old life, I had been treated like a cunt, a whore. Now I was treated with politeness and respect—like a lady.

Because Ben was larger than most men in both bulk and brawn, he received his share of glances but once the townspeople saw that beneath his intimidating size and "if-you-look-at-me-twice-I'm-gonna-rip-your-damn-head-off" demeanor, Ben was more bark than bite, he was accepted.

No, any attention we received was primarily because of me. I was petite and looked like every other fifteen-year-old girl in the country in the mid 1950's—right down to the poodle skirt and ponytail. To everyone who saw Ben and me together, the obvious twenty-plus year age gap between us aroused their suspicions. This was the one part of the United States where a man of forty, in the company of a girl my age, would have had a lynch mob after him with their shotguns drawn and a hangman's noose at the ready.

However, once we explained to the more distrustful folk about our marriage and they saw my wedding ring for themselves, no one gave Ben or me dirty looks anymore when we went out together. That small piece of gold on my finger gave us instant respectability and acceptability. I received good wishes and marital tips from other wives and Ben received good-natured nudges and winks from their husbands.

All around us were people from a countless array of colours and faiths—a mixed race child or adult in Sin City would have immediately raised eyebrows and caused double-takes, but they were not given a second glance in The Big Easy.

However, there was a dark side to my new home. This was the Deep South and unlike Basin City, there were segregated 'whites' or 'coloureds' only areas here but despite that, for the most part, blacks and whites moved amongst each other on the streets with acceptance and without incident. Both races had deep roots in the long and sometimes tumultuous history of New Orleans over the centuries and as a result, each culture learned to live with the other.

Every city in the world has its bad parts of town but in The Big Easy, there were dwellings that could only be described as shacks. They were so run down, my father wouldn't have dared store his tools inside, let alone dream of living in. Yet, these were people's homes. It was quite a wakeup call for me: a blond haired, blue-eyed white girl from an upper middle-class family to see how the other half lived. It didn't affect Ben as much as it did me—by his own admission, he'd grown up poor and knew what it was like to have a leaky roof and not enough food.

When we left Sin City, we took all of our money—nearly five thousand dollars-- from the bank as well as the better pieces of fenceable jewelry that was in my safe deposit box. Ben and I decided that we would see if we could find a furnished apartment—it would be ready to move in and cheaper since we wouldn't have to buy furniture. We found a decent place in a good neighbourhood not far from my school and signed the lease for it on the same day.

Ben had to purchase a uniform for his job and he hated it. "I look stupid," Ben grumbled after trying it on for the first time.

"No you don't," I said. "How do you find the job itself? Is it hard?"

"Nah. I'm nothing but a goddamn night watchman. I hafta sit in a little gatehouse that's smaller than our bathroom and check people who come on and off the property. Every hour I have to do my rounds and make sure that all the windows and doors I just checked are secured. It's so goddamn boring, I almost fall asleep sometimes."

He ate dinner and when he was through, he went to change into his off-duty clothes while I dressed for school. During that first week, we hardly saw each other; when he was coming home, I was leaving and when I was the one coming home, he was the one leaving.

One day when I came home a little earlier than usual, Ben was still asleep. I had to take a shower as we had been dissecting a frog in biology class and I reeked of formaldehyde, not to mention having bits of the long-dead amphibian on my clothes. As I stood under the cascading hot water and relished the feeling of being clean again, I glanced down at myself. My pussy hair was growing back. Feeling naughty, I made the decision to shave it off again.

I put on one of my red silk Olga teddies and got into bed with my husband, arranging my body so that my buttocks were spooned against his groin. Purposefully, I wiggled my ass until I felt Ben's cock twitch in response.

I turned over and dove down under the covers. I giggled to myself as I imagined Ben's reaction as he woke up to find my mouth around his cock. He told me once that it was every man's dream to be woken up this way; perhaps mentioning it was a subtle hint that he'd like me to do it someday. Well, that someday was today! I was going to follow through on his suggestion with gusto. I hoped he wouldn't mind being woken up a bit earlier than usual and the promise of pleasure I'd give would override his need for sleep. I knew from my time as a hooker that no red-blooded man—straight or not--would ever turn down a blowjob, no matter what time of day it was.

I heard Ben mumble something as my hot, wet mouth licked the tip of his shaft. I slid my hand under his balls and I caressed them just the way he liked it. From all the other times I'd sucked him off, I expected him to reach down and run his fingers through my hair as he pushed his dick deeper into my mouth, but that never happened. He was still soft and I thought it was because he was still asleep. I resolved that I would just have to try harder. I ran my mouth down the side of his cock before licking it up and down as if it were a lollipop. I had been with Ben enough times to know that that drove him wild. Still, there was no response from him.

If I didn't know better, he wasn't enjoying what I was doing—he was only enduring it, just like some wives who lay quietly underneath their husbands during sex. Unlike the women, however, Ben wasn't waiting for the whole thing to be over; he was waiting for me to give up and leave him alone so he could go back to sleep.

Ben's hand reached down and pushed my head off his cock. "Leave me alone, Sherry, I'm too tired."

"But we haven't made love in so long…."

"Yeah, well, unlike you, I have to work. Get my lunch ready at least, will ya? I'm gonna see if I can sleep a bit more." Ben rolled away and burrowed deeper under the blankets.

Tears prickled in my eyes at his reprimand and I was hurt. "All you do is sit and read…how can you be tired?"

"I'm tired because I gotta stay up all night. I 'm tired because I have to get used to the schedule of a fucking vampire! Now leave me the hell alone and close the door behind you, for Chrissake!"

I got out of bed and made my way to the kitchen, putting on my bathrobe and an apron over top of it. I was so hurt but I made his lunch, working my way around the kitchen by touch because my eyes were full of tears. After I had finished making his lunch and packing it away, I prepared supper. No matter what, I was determined to show Ben that even though I wasn't earning money, I could still be a damn good wife.

I was well into my homework when Ben got up. He took a shower and put on his uniform before coming into the kitchen. He raised his head and sniffed the air in appreciation at the aroma of food and coffee. "Lamb chops? Smells good," he said, "thanks, babe."

He came over to me and bent down to place a kiss on my cheek. Still stung from his curt refusal of my romantic advances in the bedroom, I decided to pay him back in kind. I moved out of his reach. "Your supper is getting cold," I snapped.

"Babe, I just want to say…"

"Forget it. Unlike you," I said, concentrating my gaze on my English essay, "I have homework to do. Hours of it, in fact. So, if you don't mind, I'd like to get it done. Your lunchbox is on the counter. Besides, someone in this house should get a high school diploma." It was a cruel thing to say and in the years that passed, I've regretted it many times.

Getting back at him like that was a childish thing to do, but according to the law in many states of the Union, at fifteen, I was still a child. I knew what I said would hurt him but I was too pissed-off to be concerned with his feelings. I heard him sigh and go into the kitchen for his coffee and food. However, instead of eating at the table with me, he took his meal into the living room, not saying a word. I tried to focus on my schoolwork but because tears were streaming down my face, I never saw one word on the paper.

"That was a spiteful thing to say to me after everything I've done for you, Sherry." Ben's voice became thick with emotion but I couldn't look up for fear he'd see the shame in my eyes. "And all because I said no to you once when you wanted sex…? That's a hell of a way to thank me." His voice sounded sad. However, he was not angry, only hurt to the depth of his big, loving heart... and all because I didn't think twice before opening my big fat mouth!

I wanted to get up and run into his arms and beg him to forgive me but I didn't. That, too, is something I've regretted not doing.

The door closed quietly behind him and I started to cry. After I had done a half-assed job of tackling my homework, I went to bed. Hour after hour passed as I tossed in my cold bed with my empty arms and it wasn't until I had some wine and knocked back three two-finger shots of vodka that I finally felt sleepy.

It looked as if coming to New Orleans was a mistake.

lll

Ben was not the type to hold a grudge, although I walked on eggshells when he came home the next morning. I waited for him to lash out either verbally or physically, determined to take whatever he would do or say and accept it as my due, but he was a far better-hearted man than I ever gave him credit for.

Instead, he kissed the top of my head and asked, "how about I take a shower and you get gussied up and we got out to dinner?" He swept me into his arms and I squealed happily.

I was so happy I nearly danced all the way home from school. Today was Friday and we had the weekend--two whole glorious days to spend with each other!

I was dressed and made up to the nines in less than an hour after I got home. As I was putting in my earrings, I heard Ben whistle appreciatively from the bedroom doorway. I looked over my shoulder at him. "You don't look so bad yourself," I said. He was dressed in a dark grey suit with a navy open-neck shirt.

"Oh, I dunno about that. You think I could pass for a Southern gentleman?" he said, doing his best to imitate the slow, lazy drawl that I heard from everyone I had met in New Orleans.

"Why I do declah, Suh, a sweet young thing like mahself can get easily swept away by your sweet talk. Whatever shall ah do?" I said in my best Scarlett O'Hara impression before speaking in my normal voice. "Pretty bad, huh?"

Ben grimaced. "Yup. But I love you anyway."

I playfully pushed at his shoulder and we headed out the door.

lll

As soon as we entered the dining room, I had to suppress a gasp. It was if we had stepped back in time. The restaurant was in a two-century year old white pillared mansion, just the kind of house one would expect the upper crust of Southern society to have. I could imagine a group of corseted, hoop-skirted women in dressed in elegant satins and silks sewing in this room as they waited for their men to return home. It was complete with oak trim, leaded glass windows that were draped with heavy cranberry coloured chintz. It was a dim atmosphere but the darkness was displaced with candles that lent a fragrance of magnolias throughout the room.

The maitre'd showed us to a corner table that had a freshly pressed snowy white tablecloth that fell to the floor. I suppressed a smile as a wickedly delicious thought came into my head. It was perfect. No one would know what I was up to, not even Ben, until it was too late. I giggled.

Once we were seated and looking at the menus, I moved my wrist until my fork hit the floor. It sank onto the deep carpet and made no noise. "Oh, look what I've done," I said in mock surprise. Before Ben even noticed anything, I was under the table.

"Babe, what are you doing…?"

The feel of my hands on his zipper swallowed any further comment he might have made. He sat rigidly in his chair, probably afraid that if he moved even a little bit or said anything, the whole restaurant would guess what his wanton wife was up to under the table.

I eased his zipper down and reached inside his boxers to bring his cock out to my waiting mouth. I nearly crowed with gloating glee as this time, he became completely hard in a matter of seconds.

Too tired, my ass!

Our waiter had come to take our orders and during the entire conversation, Ben spoke through teeth that were so tightly gritted together it must have been painful. I heard Ben ask the waiter what the special was—seafood jambalaya. Wanting to keep conversation at a minimum, Ben also accepted the waiter's recommendation of a good wine. If my mouth hadn't been so pleasantly engaged, I would have howled with laughter as I listened to the exchange between the two men.

With my spare hand, I reached down between my legs and was not surprised to find that I was as aroused as my husband. I wanted to play with myself; intending that I would time my climax to Ben's, but decided not to and reluctantly removed my hand from my sopping pussy. I wanted to focus all my attention on giving my husband the best blowjob he ever had.

Not being able to control himself, Ben eased back a bit in his chair and began thrusting slightly into my mouth. I guessed that he wasn't able to push as deep as he wanted but he had another way of compensating. He reached under the table and filled his hand with my hair, holding it in a firm grip as he put pressure on my head, indicating that he wanted me to go deeper.

I didn't disappoint. His movements became faster and I knew he was going to come soon. When he whispered to me, his voice was low and gravelly as it usually was when he was fully aroused. He used coarse and vulgar language to me but I didn't mind. "That's it, my little cocksucker, take me deeper…goddamn it, I said deeper!"

I obliged his wishes gladly. I felt both of his hands around my head, grabbing me by the ears and his cock fucked my mouth unmercifully. He was rough with me but not to the point of pain. I sensed that this was his way of getting back at me for my hurtful words earlier and I took my punishment obediently, my mouth stretched to its widest as he pounded into me.

"Christ, I'm gonna come and you're gonna swallow every fucking drop!"

Obviously, he didn't expect me to answer since my mouth was around his dick but I made an 'uh-huh' noise anyway. His entire body tensed and he surged into my mouth, filling me with his hot seed. In all the times I had given him a blowjob, I doubt that he ever came as hard or as long as he did at that moment. When he stopped twitching, I heard him give great panting breaths as he calmed himself down. It took a while but he recovered. I gently licked him clean and put him back into his boxers before zipping up his fly.

"OK, the coast is clear, you can come out now," he whispered.

I retrieved the spoon that I had dropped on the floor and slowly came out from under the table on my hands and knees. When I lifted my head from under the tablecloth, I met the eye of a man who had been dining alone who was seated not far from us. He was the epitome of a well-bred, well-dressed Southern gentleman—something like Clark Gable but without the mustache.

He winked at me. At first, I was mortified but feeling naughty, I brought my finger to my lips and brazenly winked back. He nodded and flashed me a broad smile, his teeth startlingly white against his tanned skin. With a jerk of his chin and a movement of his hand in his hair, he indicated that my hair was disheveled. I finger-combed my hair into some sort of order and indicated my thanks with a grin of my own.

When I sat back in my chair, I looked around and was relieved to see that other than the dark-skinned man, no one had any clue of what I had just did. Primly and properly, I adjusted the napkin over my thighs and sat up straight, not giving anyone a clue that less than five minutes before, I was giving my husband head under the table of this very expensive restaurant.

Our meal was served and I was starving. We talked, and it was like falling in love with him all over again. We rehashed both good and bad times that we had had in Sin City.

"When I first started this gig, I thought it was as low a job as I could ever get, but you know what? I like it. It's honest work. I can hold my head up because I don't have to beat or torture people because they owe some big shot money. I can sleep at night. Sure, the money's not great and I don't get perks like first dibs on stolen jewelry or fancy clothes, but that don't matter to me no more. I'm glad we came here."

He reached across the table and took his hand in mine, squeezing it. I couldn't remember the last time we'd had a heart-to-heart talk, but it had been too long ago. My heart was too full of emotion to speak at that moment.

After dessert, I leaned back in my chair, too full from food and tipsy from wine to even think of moving. I idly let my gaze wander over the other patrons of the restaurant, seeing everywhere the signs of couples in love. I was drowsy from the good wine and food and perfectly content. When I looked over at Ben, he had a 'cat that just swallowed the canary' expression on his face. I was well acquainted with that look—he was up to something and nine times out of ten, it had something to do with sex.

Curiously, I watched as Ben shifted in his seat, stretching his long legs towards me. "Now it's your turn," he said, "spread those gorgeous gams of yours, kid."

I did as he requested and was hard put to silence a gasp as I felt his stockinged foot worm its way between my legs and settle firmly at my pussy.

"Ooh, someone's dripping," Ben murmured in a voice so low that even if someone were standing next to me, they wouldn't have heard him. "Could it be you got turned on by sucking me off?"

"Smart ass," I responded tartly. I nearly jumped out of my skin when Ben ran his toes up and down my soaked slit. Having my crotch fondled in public by this rather unorthodox way was driving me crazy. Now I was the one biting my lip to keep from crying out at what was going on under the table. As if they had a will and mind of their own, my hips moved against his foot as my excitement grew.

"Even in this light, I can see your face is beet red. I wonder why? Oh, look what I've done."

I widened my eyes and gulped when I saw Ben brush his coffee spoon off the table. Just as it had been with mine, the carpet swallowed the noise.

"You can't!" I hissed.

"You did," Ben teased. "Besides, I know how sweet you get when you are really, really wet."

"No!"

"Watch me." Ben looked around before diving under the table. With his large body size, he barely fit, but the floor-length tablecloth hid him well enough. As Ben moved closer to me, his head hit the table and I heard a muffled 'Damn it!'

He edged closer to me and I felt my husband's large, calloused hands spread my knees as wide as they could go and still be covered by the tablecloth.

"Please…" The word came out of my mouth like a whimper.

Ben chuckled low and deep when he discovered how wet I was. I moaned when I felt the crotch of my panties being eased to one side. Ben slid one finger into me and curled it upward, so that it caressed my g-spot.

On the inside, I was a wanton woman, almost on the verge of loudly begging the man between my legs to take my clit into his mouth and suck it with that enormously talented tongue of his while I screamed my pleasure to the four corners of the room. However, on the outside, I had to present myself as a proper young lady whose only concern in life was holding her teacup correctly and thinking of nothing.

What a fucking dilemma…!

Just as Ben had done with me, I grabbed him by the back of the head, pushing his face so hard against my pussy that he must have been breathing through it. I was mewling in my throat like a newborn kitten as I was relentlessly driven forward to my approaching climax. I had to do something--otherwise, I'd be screaming out to God in a matter of seconds. I crunched up the silk napkin in my lap, clenching my fingers around it with the force of a death grip.

I glanced to the side and saw that the quietly well-dressed gentleman who had winked at me after I had given Ben head was now watching me intently. In a flash, I knew that he knew what was going on. I tried to force myself to close my eyes and not look at him but I couldn't. I could tell by the passionate expression on his face that he wasn't shocked or repulsed in the least--but his scrutiny was unnerving. For a moment, I imagined that he was the one under the table and the image was seared into my mind, making me blush to the tips of my ears. As if he could read my thoughts, his long lips curved in a half-smile. The heat from his eyes as they stared at me over his brandy snifter was making me very uncomfortable. With a tremendous force of effort, I wrenched my gaze from his and closed my eyes.

Luckily, there was a loud party of people in the restaurant and throughout our meal, their occasional bursts of boisterous merriment made us aware of their presence. I thanked God and all the angels in heaven for them. As their laughter crested, so did my orgasm. I whimpered and moaned as quietly as I could. Wave as wave of pure, raw, primal pleasure burst from my clit and radiated to every pore and follicle of my body. Through a dim haze, I felt my husband's hands on my thighs as he held me to subdue my writhing hips so it wouldn't be noticeable to the other diners until I rode out my ecstasy to its conclusion.

When I could breathe and think clearly again, I opened my eyes and saw Ben sitting across from me as usual. He winked at me and discretely wiped my juices from his chin and cheeks.

"You wanna get outta here?"

"What?" I was completely drained of energy; I wanted nothing more than to lay my head down on the table and sleep.

"When we get home and after I have a drink, I'll fuck you into the mattress. Or against the wall. Or even on the goddamn kitchen table. But make no mistake, Sherry, I intend to bury my dick so far inside of you, I'll be able to feel your spine against my cock. Now, I'm gonna ask you again: You wanna get outta here?"

Suddenly, I was no longer tired. Scorching liquid fire flowed through me, pooling in my nipples and clit. I needed to feel my husband's hands, lips, and mouth all over my body. Because of my earth shattering orgasm I'd just experienced, I'm sure the cushioned seat was saturated with my juices.

I rubbed my thighs together in anticipation of being fucked into the mattress, against the wall, or even on the goddamn kitchen table! Ben saw the movement and gave me a slow sexy grin and I saw his eyes darken to midnight blue in arousal. "I guess I have my answer," he said.

lll

On the drive home, I sat next to Ben, squeezing his knee in anticipation and begging him to go faster. He laughed at my eagerness. "If I go any faster, we'll get a speeding ticket. Don't worry, babe, we'll be home soon enough."

Even if we traveled at the speed of light, it would never be fast enough for me. I wanted him now. However, I realized he was right. It wouldn't do either of us any good if we wrapped the car around a telephone pole.

"Here, hop up on my lap," Ben asked. While holding onto the steering wheel with one hand, he used the other to pull me onto his knee and immediately hiked up my skirt, his hand stroking my pussy. He chuckled when he felt my wetness.

I spread my legs further apart and he slid two and then asking if it was all right, three fingers into me with no trouble whatsoever. "If my wife gets this wet just 'cause I suggested some sex, then I'm dropping the ball as a husband."

I wriggled my butt against his groin and was smugly satisfied that I soon felt his erection straining the front of his pants. I couldn't resist saying: "Is that Matilda in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?"

"You're a helluva cocktease, little girl," he growled. "And once we get home, I'm gonna make sure you pay for distracting me—Christ! I'm tryin' to drive!"

I had reached down between his legs and fondled him, making his cock even harder. "You drive with your hands, not your cock," I said archly.

"Just you wait," Ben promised darkly. "Thank God, we're home!"

Hand in hand, we raced to the door of our apartment. Once the door was open, Ben lifted me up so that my legs were around his waist and he carried me into our bedroom. He kicked the door closed behind him and abruptly threw me like a rag doll onto the bed. As he had done on the night of the carnival, he tore my blouse off, tearing it to unrecognizable shreds, buttons flying everywhere.

He stood at the end of the bed, staring at me with those damn irresistible eyes of his that never left my face. I knew what he wanted to do but he needed me to ask him first.

"Make me your whore," I said, getting to my knees and unbuckling his belt. I eased his pants and boxers down just far enough so he could fuck me. He threw me down the bed again and instead of waiting for me to undress, hiked my skirt up, and ripped my panties from my body, hurling them to the side.

Less than a heartbeat later, his dick was buried inside of me to the hilt. He let out a loud groan, his fingernails leaving long scratch marks in my flesh from my shoulders to my buttocks. He growled like a feral animal satisfying the overwhelming urge to mate, gripped each cheek hard, and began a fast-paced rhythm. The rough hair around his dick scratched at my bare pussy lips, igniting my lust with each thrust.

To anyone watching, it would have seemed as if Ben was raping me again but nothing could be further from the truth. Even though it was never expressed, both of us knew that I only had to say the word and Ben would stop. I wrapped my legs around him, making him go deeper inside me. "Are you my whore?" Ben growled.

"Uh-huh."

"That's no fucking good enough. Are—you—my—whore?" After each word, Ben thrust sharply into me that I cried out. What I was feeling was either painful pleasure or pleasurable pain; I couldn't decide. But one thing was certain: I never wanted this to end!

"Answer me!"

"YES!!!!"

Ben crashed his lips onto mine so hard it hurt, using his mouth to violate my own. He removed his hand from my ass and buried it in my hair, grabbing a handful and yanking my head to the side. I instinctively knew what he was going to do and I moved so that he could have as much as access to the sensitive area between my neck and shoulder as possible.

I wanted to feel his teeth on me, biting hard and deep into my flesh. In all the times he'd done this to me, not once did he ever left a mark on my skin. But this time was different—I wanted him to mark me. I wanted him to be rough. "Please…" I begged.

"Please what?" my husband asked.

"Bite me. Bite me hard."

When he did, I screamed. Not because it was painful but because it felt so fucking good. I felt an orgasm of gigantic proportions sweep through my body. Our lovemaking that night was unlike anything we'd ever experienced before; it was rough and hard, each taking what we wanted from the other. To Ben, I was nothing but a cunt. To me, he was nothing but a cock. It was as if both Ben and I needed this in some mystifying and unexplainable way: he needed to be rough and I needed to be used.

I had told Ben once that I wanted to be fucked into the mattress…that night, I was. I knew I wouldn't be able to sit down for a long time afterward but I didn't care. We lay quietly in each other's arms, saying nothing, doing nothing; loving the idea that we had fucked each other so hard that we were too weak to move. Not that we wanted to though; nothing beyond the sheets mattered to us.

"Boy, oh boy," I murmured. "That was good."

"Ain't that the truth," Ben replied as he suckled me.

I giggled as I ran my hand over Ben's face. "Again?"

"Give me an hour and you'll get the answer to that," he said with a smile in his voice.

"Promises, promises," I said. I moved onto my side and hissed a little at the soreness I was beginning to feel between my legs.

"I didn't hurt ya, did I?"

"Hell no!" I responded. "Well, maybe a little. I probably won't be able to sit down for a week…"

"Can't keep up with me, huh?" Ben asked smugly but his tone quickly turned to indignation. "Hey! What'd you smack me for?"

"For being a smart ass." My hand was stinging from the force of the good hard slap I'd just delivered to his backside. "Why? Did I hurt you?" I asked coyly.

"Nah. Hell, with all the scratches and claw marks I have on my back, I guess I can handle a slap to the butt." He kissed the top of my head. "I don't mind about the marks—I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. Going deaf for a few minutes 'cause of your screaming only tells me that I did my job."

"And hearing you call out to God only tells me that I did _my_ job," I countered.

"Ain't that the truth. Look, I'm sorry I got mad and turned you away the other day, but I was really tired," Ben said softly. He took me in his arms and held me close to him, our limbs still entwined and our clothes still on our bodies—cooling now because the cum, pussy juice and sweat was beginning to dry.

We awoke a short while later and made love again. This time it was gentle and slow; instead of using each other for our own pleasure, we gave pleasure to the other in every way only two people deeply in love could possibly do.


	27. Introduction To New Orleans

Introduction to New Orleans

Disclaimer: I don't own anything associated with the Sin City franchise and I am not making any money from this.

A/N: As always, thanks to wannabanauthor and TLH for guiding me when I needed it.

lll

A month after he started work at Roarke Exports, Ben came home one night and told me that we were invited to a Sunday afternoon get-together at his supervisor's home.

"George is a good guy," Ben said. "He's the chief of security. After he'd given me my shift duties the other night, he had some time to kill and we got to talking. He told me that his wife especially wants to meet you."

"Why?" No doubt after Ben talked with George, he went home and told his wife how young I was and that's what got the whole 'we simply must meet your bride, Ben,' thing started. I was nervous.

"If you don't want to, we don't have to go," Ben said quickly, seeing my hesitation. "I didn't promise him that we'd come over or nothin', I said I'd check with you first."

"I'd like to meet your co-workers," I said, hoping that Ben wouldn't catch on that I was lying through my teeth. "What should I wear?"

"How about that blue dress you just got? That should be okay."

"I guess," I replied with a cheerfulness I was far from feeling. "Who else will be there?"

"Well, every Sunday afternoon, some of the wives meet at one another's houses to talk about cooking and sewing and stuff. This week, George's wife, Doris, is hosting. I think he said there's usually about eight or so."

Now I was starting to get anxious. Meeting one or two of the other wives at once was scary enough, but eight? Good Lord, what the hell was I going to do?

I could see that Ben wanted to go; in this new city we called home, we only knew each other. As much as he loved me, he missed having male friends and I could certainly understand that a man needs to share a beer with the boys after a hard week at work.

There are times that a man wants to talk to other men, especially his own age. Because of the twenty-five year age gap between Ben and myself, it was nearly impossible for us to find common ground—we didn't share the same tastes in music, movies or just about anything else.

My mother didn't need to know where my father was every minute; she gave him his space as he gave her hers—as a result, their marriage was more solid and strong. I was going to follow their excellent example.

I knew very well that if I said no, word would get around Roarke Exports that Ben's child-bride was a snob and that might make his life at work difficult. As much as I wanted to stay home, I couldn't. It had been enough that we'd had to leave Sin City like we did—not saying good-bye to anyone and with our tails between our legs. No, New Orleans was a fresh start for both Ben and me. I wouldn't be selfish and jeopardize Ben's potential happiness. Besides, I reasoned, once I met the other wives, I might make friends of my own. That wasn't likely to happen, but I could still hope.

"Okay, let's do it. What should I bring?"

Ben smiled in relief and hugged me. "George already told me. I have to bring peanut oil. About five gallons should do it."

Peanut oil? I wondered. Why in the world would Ben have to bring that? Then I decided that it didn't matter. All that mattered to me was the feel of my husband's arms around me, keeping me safe and warm.

His lips kissed the top of my head. "Thanks, babe. This means a lot to me."

lll

After attending Mass, Ben and I drove around to several grocery stores before we found enough peanut oil. I smoothed the skirt of my dress down and tried not to worry. I had seen it in a consignment shop window. It was a deep sapphire blue, with an elegantly flared skirt. I thought it was perfect--modest and not too dressy. The talkative shop girl told me that the original owner had fallen on somewhat hard times and needed to sell it. I checked my makeup in the car mirror. The dark colour of the dress made me look pale, so to counter that, I went the whole way, covering my face with foundation, blush, mascara, and eye shadow. My lipstick was a bit dark but I hoped no one would notice in a dim room.

We then drove to the home of George and Doris Brady. Like my husband, George was a broad-shouldered, barrel-chested man. I had to admit that when he extended his hand to me, I was apprehensive. His huge, nine-inch long hand swallowed mine when he shook it. Despite the fact that he looked like he could crush my bones into oatmeal if he chose, George's grip was very gentle.

Standing at his side was his wife Doris. She was a small, trim woman in her late thirties, with a wealth of golden brown hair that brushed her shoulders. Her intelligent hazel eyes were merry and bright, missing nothing of what went on around her.

The women were in the living room, the youngest being in her late twenties. In a segregated city like New Orleans, I was glad to see that there was one African-American in the group. I remembered Ben telling me that Rosemary's husband, Matt, worked at the plant in the personnel department.

It was a pleasant surprise to learn that Senator Roarke the businessman--not Senator Roarke the lecher that I was all too familiar with--cared more about a person's abilities than their colour or gender. His companies regularly hired promising women and people of colour for lower management positions. Both females and blacks still had a long way to go before being seen as equals of white men in the business world, but Roarke Exports had given them a chance; most companies thought that women were only fit for clerical work and blacks were only fit for janitorial duties.

As soon as I walked in the door, it was as if I were entering a flower garden. Everyone was dressed in soft pastel hues, it reminded me of the times I'd dye Easter eggs as a child. Not only that, the room smelled heavenly. Subtle fragrances of jasmine, lilac, and rose filled the air.

The moment I saw what the others were wearing, I realized how bad my choice of dress was. I stood out from everyone, the dark colour of my dress was completely inappropriate for a simple Sunday afternoon gathering. Instead of a dim room like I expected, the curtains were pulled back, engulfing the room in bright sunlight. My makeup was completely wrong--all the women in the room wore a hint of blush and light lipstick and that was it. Compared to them, I was attired and made up like a whore trolling for customers. I felt so embarrassed and out of place, I wanted to sink into the floor.

Introductions were made but I knew I couldn't remember who was called what, so I associated each lady's name with what she was wearing. Mary was in blue, Ruth in green, Jackie in lavender, and so on.

The other wives were curious and gracious to me, every one assumed that the only reason a middle-aged man would marry me was because I got pregnant. All of them looked at my belly and frowned, wondering why it was still flat. My being a married woman at fifteen was not as surprising as I first thought it would be. Still, even in the South, it wasn't common for a high school girl to be married, no matter what the circumstances.

"Where did you live before you came here?"

"Sin…I mean, Basin City."

"How do you like New Orleans?"

"Well, we've only been here a month but I do have to say that it is much warmer than I'm used to for this time of year. I don't even have to wear a jacket and it's late November."

There was a chorus of interested 'oohs' when I said that. Judging by their response, I had the feeling that most of these Southern born and bred ladies had hardly ever been up North in their lives. It took some doing on my part, but I managed to convince them that people who lived north of the Mason-Dixon Line do not live in igloos, nor was there snow on the ground all year round.

I found that sometimes I had to ask some of the women to repeat themselves as their dialect and local expressions were hard to understand. However, these Southerners did not mind--they did the same to me although I did see a few grimaces at my harsh Northern accent.

But the next question made my stomach turn over as bad memories flooded my mind.

"Have you ever met the owner of the company? He's the senator of the state you come from."

I tried to keep a smile on my face and act as nonchalant as I could. "No, I haven't met him." I don't know why I was deliberately lying to these women—the words came out of my mouth and it was too late to take them back.

"Oh? Are you _sure_ about that?" A dark-haired woman in lavender asked, her sharp eyes focused on mine. "Two days ago, Roarke personally called _my_ husband—the company manager in case you didn't know--and told him to give your husband a job, no questions asked. In fact, I learned that Ben worked for Roarke for years in Basin City."

Damn it!

"Yes, that is true. Ben was Roarke's chief of security."

"And you expect me to believe that you've never met him? Come on. I'm not stupid, you know."

"I never said you were," I replied as calmly as I could. I could feel my palms beginning to sweat.

The woman named Jackie leaned forward, giving me such a cold, steely glare that froze the blood in my veins. "My husband's been to Sin City several times and he's told me _all_ about you."

I clenched my hands together to keep them from shaking. What was it that this woman thought she knew? I was about to retort that if her husband knew me, it would be in the Biblical sense and that he'd paid for my body. Who was she to point fingers at my so-called moral misconduct when her own husband was guilty of the same?

I could feel the blood leave my face as the consequences came to me. Oh God, what if I had slept with her husband? What if he said something to Ben? What would Ben do? I remembered Ben saying that if a former client bothered me, he would knock the man's teeth down his throat. Considering that my previous john was now his boss, it wasn't pleasant to think about. The repercussions would ruin our future in New Orleans before it even got started!

I had to know more. I forced myself to pay attention to what she was saying.

"…you sit there all prim and proper and pretend to be a lady? How dare you!"

I was eternally grateful when Doris intervened. "Jackie, if you are not going to be civil to my guest, then you can leave."

"Guest? Are you _kidding_ me? Why are you taking the Yankee's side, Doris? I know things about her that will curl your hair!"

"Just because my husband has to listen to _your_ husband, that doesn't give you the right to speak to my guest like that. This is still _my_ house and I want you out of here. You know where the door is."

"Look at how she's dressed…and that amount of makeup makes her look like a whore!"

I focused my gaze on my folded hands in my lap as I listened. I was so ashamed of the censure I'd see if I looked around, I didn't dare raise my head as I could feel all the eyes in the room on me. I made a mental note to never ask Ben for his opinion on what to wear again.

"She's young. She wanted to make a good impression by dressing up. So what?" Doris countered angrily. "Your taste in clothes is far from perfect, so who are you to point fingers?"

"I know all about her! She's nothing but a piece of trash!"

"Big deal. No matter what she has done, Sherry is no worse than anyone from _your_ husband's inbred Cracker family, you hypocrite! The whole lot of them are drunks, thieves and gamblers and you know it! Your great-grandmother would roll over in her grave if she knew who you married. If you don't leave right now, I will drag you by your hair to your car. Don't think that I won't." Doris was a small woman but there was something about her that even the taller and younger Jackie feared fearful of pressing her luck too far.

However, Jackie could not resist giving one last parting shot. "Your name will be mud in this town once words gets around that you openly invite whores and niggers into your home, Doris Brady. Mark my words." Jackie cast one scornful look at me. "You may have been a whore before you came here, but at least you have good taste in dresses. That dress was mine before I gave it away to Goodwill."

As soon as the door slammed behind Jackie, the women breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"She's gone," piped up a voice from the end of the room. "I thought she'd never leave….Good for you, Doris."

My face was flushed from mortification. Jackie had revealed my sordid past to everyone as well as flaunting my tight financial state for all the room to hear. "I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused," I mumbled.

"Don't let her get to you, Sherry," Doris said. "That abominably rude woman is Jacqueline Jenkins, but her maiden name is Thibodeaux. She thinks she is so much better than everyone else is because her family is descended from the Huguenots. Her husband's family, Cracker through and through, founded the Klan in this state. Between the two of them, they combine every negative stereotype there is in the South: slave owners on her side and redneck white trash on his. As for calling you Yankee and Rosemary that awful word, she proves how ignorant she is to the fact that the War has been over for almost a century. There isn't a family in these parts that doesn't have Northern or black blood somewhere in their family tree."

My past had come back to haunt me and destroy my new life before it had even begun; I could never face these women again and it was best if I left quickly. The back door was closest to me. Before I lost my nerve, I quickly got to my feet and ran through the living room toward the kitchen. My hand was on the door handle when I heard someone softly call my name. I turned and saw Doris framed in the kitchen door with Rosemary behind her.

"Sherry, please sit down—you are my guest and are more than welcome to stay. I'll be damned if I let that woman tell me who I can invite into my home! And as for your clothes, no one here cares about that. There isn't a woman in this room who never had to watch their money, especially during the first year of their marriage."

Shame made tears fill my eyes. A handkerchief was pressed into my hand and I felt the comfort of gentle fingers as they closed over mine. I was gently guided to a chair where I could sit down.

"It's all right, Sherry. We won't judge you." Doris warm brown eyes were understanding and kind.

"Yes, you will. When you hear….what I've done. What I was….Jackie was right about me. Wearing a hand-me-down dress is the least of my secrets."

Rosemary put her hand on my shoulder. "Whatever you did that you think is so wrong, is in the past. Every woman in this house has done things that we are ashamed of. Or we have relatives that have done something that we blush in shame over. Hell, Rebecca—she was the one in the blue—her great grandmother blew a Union soldier's head off and then buried him in her garden! In addition, Mary's granddaddy liked young boys a little too much. Quite the scandal, I can assure you. And rumour has it that Jane's uncle liked to wear his aunt's unmentionables. Murderers, pedophiles, cross dressers--every one of us has skeletons of some sort in the closet. Everybody."

"Take me for example," Doris said. "I had to take a riding crop to my husband's backside before he did right by me! I was nearly six months pregnant when I finally waddled down the aisle. Talk about a shotgun wedding…!"

"That's _nothing_ compared to what I've done," I said. As a guest in Doris' home and seeing how vehemently she defended me against Jackie's meanness, I owed her the truth. The words came out in a rush, like the first spurt of blood from a new wound. "I sold myself for money. I was hired and raped by Senator Roarke and his two sons. Ben put me in a bath and washed away their cum and my blood from my body. I started to bleed and he took me to the hospital. I've slept with God knows how many men and Jackie Jenkins' husband was probably one of them. I killed a man and that's why we had to leave Sin City!" I shut my mouth in time on Richard's name. "Jackie was right—I am nothing but trash. I'm so tainted with filth that once I leave, you should wipe down everything I've touched with bleach to get rid of my stink…"

"I will do no such thing. You don't have to say anything else. When or if you're ready to tell me the rest of it, I'll listen. What you've just said will stay between us, I promise."

I had no right to hope that she would keep her word, but I had just confided some of the worst secrets of my life to near-complete strangers, I had no choice but to hope. "You mean that?"

"Every word, I swear to God. Now, lift up your pretty face so I can wipe that mascara off. That's better. Now, smile for me. We'd better head back to the living room. Who knows what juicy scandals we've missed! But it doesn't matter as they'll be gone soon."

As was usual in these types of gatherings, women sat sipping coffee and talking about men, especially their own! I was treated to such frank revelations about their husbands that they would die of mortification if they realized I knew what turned them on in bed. I submitted no confessions of this sort about Ben, but I listened.

Because I was the youngest and had been married for the shortest time, I was given all kinds of advice on what to do to my husband behind locked doors. I kept my mouth shut; this was my first introduction into the midst of middle-class, genteel ladies and I wouldn't spoil things by revealing just how extensive my sexual knowledge really was. Let everyone aside from Rosemary and Doris think I was a naïve teenage newlywed.

As I expected, the questions came as soon as there was a slight break in the conversation. How did I like New Orleans? How long had I been married? Had I been able to go sightseeing around the city?

It wasn't until later that I realized that the other wives were doing; asking me harmless questions until I was at my ease, letting me know in subtle ways that they were completely different from snobbish Jacqueline Jenkins. Even though she was the wife of the manager, she did not speak for anyone but herself. It wasn't mentioned in so many words, but I got the distinct impression that they didn't give a rat's ass what she thought of me. I would be judged by my merits, not by my actions of my past.

From time to time, I heard deep laughter and cheering coming from the basement where our men were gathered and I idly wondered what they were doing. Judging by what I heard, they were having a grand time.

I had no doubt that our men thought that we were, as Ben had guessed, only talking about cooking and sewing. If they could be a fly on the wall during the discussions I was avidly listening to, they'd be downright shocked at the carefully hidden yet wonderfully carnal side of their wives.

I heard the door open and our men streamed through the door. Ben immediately was concerned about my red eyes and always protective, strode purposefully toward me.

"Hey babe, you OK?" he asked, lifting my chin up so he could get a better look at me. "What's been goin' on here?" Ben scanned the room, his eyes narrowing as he looked at each woman in turn. "They givin' you a hard time?"

I felt rather than saw that every lady in the room visibly gulped and froze in her seat. They were afraid that I would spill the beans about their pestering me for information. Like most women meeting Ben for the first time, they assumed his temperament was as fearsome as his appearance. But no matter what, I wouldn't say anything. What was said in this house would stay in this house. My parents hadn't raised me to be a tattletale.

"I'm fine," I said. "Really. My eyes are watering because I was laughing so hard." I certainly wasn't going to tell him the truth! I looked at Ben and George. Both were perspiring as if they had just run a marathon and I was grateful for the chance to change the subject. "Why are you so sweaty?"

Ben grinned sheepishly. "George was showin' me his exercise equipment and we got to it."

"Got to what?" I asked.

"These two were seeing who could bench-press the most weight," Matt said, slapping a hand across George's shoulders. "When they got tired of that, they switched to arm wrestling."

Men, I thought, looking at my husband and shaking my head fondly. That damned testosterone they're so full of turned a simple get-together into a macho pissing contest. "How did it go? Who won?"

"George can bench press more, but Ben kicked his ass in arm wrestling, beating him six times straight, so I guess it's a stalemate."

"Why'd you guys stop?"

"We're hungry and George is going to fire up the barbeque."

I raised my eyebrows and looked at the five-gallon jug of cooking oil George was holding. "If there's going to be a barbeque, why did we bring that?"

"We're going to use it to deep fry the turkey."

I raised my eyebrows. I'd never heard of anyone cooking a bird like that. I didn't want to offend my host so I chose my next words carefully. "But won't that be bland if you just fry it? I thought Louisiana food was supposed to be spicy..."

George smiled. "Hell, it sure will be, just you wait. Putting it in oil is just the first step. That's why I use this." He showed me something that looked like a giant syringe. "We inject a special sauce into the bird with this handy-dandy little gadget. It's the sauce that makes it special. Prepare to have your taste buds awakened by _real _Cajun food, dawlin'."

"I look forward to it."

"Get my coat for me, will you, Ben?"

"You're going to do this _outside_?"

"Sure am. There's no way to safely heat all this oil in a house. A few people have burned their houses down trying to do this indoors or under a carport..."

"But it's November. Isn't it a little late in the year to cook outside?"

"This is New Orleans, girl," George said, and it sounded like 'New-Aw-lins'. "We don't get the snow and cold that you Yankees…I mean, y'all are accustomed to." He flushed as he realized his slip. "No offence," he said hastily.

"None taken," I replied with a secret grin. "I've been called worse than that today."

"What?" Ben turned his head around so fast, I heard his neck crack.

Doris spoke up. "Jackie was here and called Sherry some names. Honestly, with the way that woman behaves, it's hard to believe that her ancestors were titled French nobility!" She checked her watch. "I hadn't realized it was so late. I'd better see my other guests to the door." She left briskly and I could hear muted conversations coming from the living room.

"If you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas, as the old saying goes," George shrugged.

Ben spoke up. "Who is this woman who thinks she can call my girl names?"

"It's nothing I haven't heard before," I said. I could see Ben was getting pissed and if Ben got pissed at someone, it usually did not end well. "Jackie is Clem Jenkins' wife."

Ben snorted in derision. "If his wife is anything like him, she's not worth gettin' upset over. But still…"

"Don't let him hear you say that," George warned. "He's a vindictive little snot who thinks he's king of the world. His wife is the same. You haven't seen him yet, Sherry, so I'll describe him to you in one sentence: the smallest rooster in the barnyard is the one that squawks the loudest."

I didn't say it but I knew exactly what kind of man George was describing. In my checkered career, I'd seen it a thousand times before: the men with the biggest mouths were the ones with the smallest dicks.

Then I remembered. I told the group what I had learned at the consignment store—with a generous helping of shrewish satisfaction, I had to admit. Doris re-entered the room.

"I heard through the company grapevine that they were hurting for money. Serves them snobs right." George playfully smacked Doris' backside. "Get to it, Maw. Time's a-wasting." He whispered something in her ear, while his left hand copped a feel from her breast.

Doris blushed. "Behave yourself. We have company. Get to it yourself; that turkey isn't going to cook itself." She shooed her husband out the door. "Scat and do your stuff while I marshal the troops to do mine. Now, ladies," she said, turning to Rosemary and myself, "this is when we get to work." She issued orders like a five-star general as she prepared to take charge in her kitchen.

The rest of the afternoon was spent preparing side dishes that would accompany the turkey: candied yams, mashed potatoes, black-eyed peas and Cajun sausage. Last but not least, pecan pie for dessert.

By the time everything was prepared, the turkey was ready. To my surprise, it wasn't greasy and while the sauce George had injected it with was burning my mouth, I loved it.

"If you stay here long enough, you'll get used to the heat of Cajun cooking," Doris said after refilling my water glass for the third time. "By the way, have y'all been able to do any sightseeing around these parts?"

"Not yet," I admitted, "but we'd certainly like to. New Orleans has a wonderful history that I'd like to see. What would you recommend?"


	28. Day at the Races

Day at the Races

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the Sin City franchise and I'm not making money from this.

A/N: A sincere thanks to my two most loyal reviewers: LUVYDUVY and Wannabanauthor. You guys are the best! Your faith and continuing readership encourages me to write!

lll

Based on the sightseeing information that we received from Doris and George Brady, Ben and I set out to explore our new home to the fullest. Every weekend, we did something different. Carriage rides through the French Quarter, tours of supposedly haunted homes…but the most memorable was our visit to The Big Easy's famed graveyards.

When it comes to burying its dead, New Orleans is unique from every city in the United States in that respect. Like Venice, its water table is so high that the dead cannot be put to rest in a typical six-foot deep grave, but could only be housed in an above-ground stone tomb. Graveyards are referred to as "cities of the dead." Around most mausoleums was a rusty wrought iron gate. Crosses and statues on tomb tops cast eerie shadows on our tour group, making me shiver in superstitious dread.

We were told that crypts held several members from the same family. Once a person was body was entombed for two years, the remains would be removed and put into a special burial bag and moved to the side or back of the vault. That coffin they rested in would be destroyed and the mausoleum would be ready for its next occupant. If a family member died within the two-year time restriction was up, they would be placed in a special holding vault and the newly deceased would be moved to their final resting place.

No visit to a graveyard would be complete without seeing the mausoleum of New Orleans' most famous resident and world-renowned queen of voodoo, Marie Leveau. There were offerings of flowers or small gifts on the front of the crypt. Our guide said that it was common practice for people who came asking for her favours, would leave things that they thought Madame. Leveau might like. I was surprised to see the stone was covered with hundreds of markings of three x's in a row. When I asked our guide about this, she told us that if we made a wish from the heart, knocked three times, and wrote three x's on her grave with piece of chalk or brick, our wish would come true.

We were also informed that it was not safe to enter the cemetery alone or after dark--the tombs made effective hiding places for muggers who lay in wait, ready to rob an unsuspecting visitor. Visiting the cemetery again wasn't high on my to-do list, day _or_ night.

Thanksgiving was coming up soon—our first as a couple. As the holiday came closer, I found it hard to believe that so much had happened to me in the six short months since I had clubbed my Uncle Tom and ran for my life.

Turkey Day traditions in my new home were very different from Basin City or Granite Falls. Like most of the nation, many of the city's residents would be staying at home watching the Macy's parade; in New Orleans, it was a time-honoured tradition for many to go to the Fair Grounds Race Course.

We were informed that in addition to watching the races, it was also a place to see and bee seen. Spectators would be dressed in their best as they sipped mimosas, beers, or champagne as they renewed acquaintances and got caught up on the latest news. I was surprised to learn that this was a family affair; many couples with young children were attending the festivities.

"She won! She won!" I shouted, jumping up and down. This was the third race that we'd won today. After nearly six hours straight of watching the well-bred and highly trained tests of equestrian speed and strength, I wasn't tired of being here. The excitement from the watching crowds was infectious and I found myself, yelling myself hoarse at every race even if I hadn't bet on it. Of course, I wasn't old enough to gamble in the state of Louisiana so Ben had placed a few bets, promising me that if we won, we would splurge and get something nice for our apartment.

"How much did we win today?" I asked.

Ben's forehead furrowed as he thought about it. "Well, we started out with $25 this morning and with the two races that we've won and that last horse's odds being ten to one against her, I'd say we cleared nearly five hundred clams."

"Holy cow!" I exclaimed. Five hundred dollars was nearly a whole month's salary for Ben. "I could kiss that horse!"

"I can arrange that if you like," said a deeply amused voice behind us.

I turned around and felt my ears turn red from embarrassment. The man who spoke was none other than the fellow who had watched me give my husband head in the restaurant. I watched him closely for any sign of recognition but I saw none. I breathed a sigh of relief. He had forgotten.

"I apologize for intruding but I couldn't help overhearing. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Rafe Montgomery," he said, extending his hand to Ben who shook it. They exchanged pleasantries and as I half-listened to what they were saying. I couldn't help but note that Rafe's voice was an intoxicating combination of a soft baritone and a gentle lowlands Louisiana accent. Until today, I never fully understood the difference between a Cracker and a Southern gentleman. Rafe Montgomery was definitely the latter. "I own Sekhmet. Why did you bet on her, if you don't mind my asking? She was a long shot."

Since I had been the one to choose which horse to bet on, I took this as my cue and spoke up. "I chose her because of her name. Sekhmet was an ancient Egyptian warrior goddess and not someone you would want to have on your bad side."

Rafe nodded and I saw admiration in his eyes. "Yes. You know your history," he said, his lips parting in a broad smile, his white teeth providing a perfect contrast with his tanned skin. He wore an open-neck shirt, unbuttoned enough to reveal a dark mat of chest hair. Tan coloured jodhpurs and perfectly polished black riding boots completed his outfit. To me, he resembled the male on every romance novel I had ever read. Rafe saw my perusal of him and grinned, his dark eyes flashing with suppressed humour that spoke volumes to me.

Oh Christ, I thought, he remembers me. I raised my chin, suppressing the childish desire to stick my tongue out at him. I had nothing to be ashamed of; I had only given my husband the best blowjob he'd ever had in a crowded restaurant, completely undetected except for him.

"Have you ever been at a race track before?"

"No, this is the first time for both of us and we did very well," I said. "We've won nearly five hundred dollars, mainly because of your horse."

"Would you like to meet her?" Rafe asked.

"Can we? That'll be super," I said before Ben could object.

"Come right this way," Rafe said, gesturing that we follow him.

lll

The odors of the stables rose in a gentle waft, prickling our noses—the reek of acrid manure and the smell of freshly cut hay mingled together to create a sickly sweet stench that churned my stomach. Once I began breathing through my nose, I felt better.

It was a lively place. Diminutive men in brightly coloured racing silks darted in and out of various stalls making final preparations for their races; tightening bridles, adjusting saddles and some were whispering words of encouragement and endearments to their towering mounts. The horses owners, all of them dressed in suits, giving the jockeys last-minute advice and instructions.

Sekhmet was a magnificent animal. She was chestnut brown with a white splotch on her nose. The horse whinnied when she saw Rafe, tossing her head and tail. He strode forward and took the mare's head in his hands, scratching her ears affectionately. I realized in that moment that Sekhmet was not a possession that made him money; she was a beloved member of his family. Seeing them together made me think of a dog showing love for his master with joyful barks and a steadily wagging tail.

A blanket had been placed on her body, which I assumed was to keep her from cooling off too quickly after a strenuous race.

"Gorgeous, isn't she? She is a Thoroughbred from both sides of her lineage. Her sire is a Godolphin Arabian, and her dam is a Turk. She stands sixteen and a half hands high." His pride and love for the mare was evident in his tone.

I didn't understand a word he said but I nodded politely. I wanted to go closer for a better look but the horse was huge and I was nervous.

"Don't be scared, she won't bite you as long as you do as I say."

I was skeptical despite Rafe's assurances. I had never been this close to a horse before and my anticipation overrode my misgivings. "May I touch her?"

"Certainly. However, give her your hand slowly so she can know you first. Careful, now."

Remembering her owner's warning not to make any sudden moves, I stretched out my hand to let the mare familiarize herself with my scent. I stroked her long nose, admiring the proud set of her head and her warm brown eyes as she gazed back at me. When she did not withdraw or make any movement to indicate that she did not want me to stay, I became bolder, reaching up to stroke her neck.

Rafe handed me a carrot. "She loves these. Hold your hand out straight, and don't curl your fingers or you'll get nipped."

I did as instructed and flattened my hand, gingerly extending it so the mare could accept my offering without biting my fingers. Her nose felt like warm liquid velvet against my hand and she nickered softly in appreciation as she stretched out soft lips and gently took the carrot from my hand. She withdrew and proceeded to munch on the crunchy treat I had given her.

"She likes you," said Rafe, giving me a warm glance that made me blush. "She usually doesn't take to strangers. See?" He jerked his chin toward Sekhmet and I saw that the mare was stretching her neck out hopefully towards me. Although I knew next to nothing about horses, I knew that she was looking for more. I was more than happy to oblige the splendid mare who had done so well by me.

"Here, give her this," Rafe said, giving me a handful of sugar cubes.

I laughed when I heard Sekhmet slurp as she devoured the treats I had given her.

"She doesn't have the most delicate way of eating," Rafe said. "But that's all right. Even when I give her medicine, she takes it with no fuss, no muss. No matter what, she never spits when I give her something. She swallows every drop." Rafe's dark eyes were gleaming with hidden meaning and I blushed to the tips of my ears.

Ben said nothing but even so, I could tell that he was pissed about something. He followed our conversation, his head turning from side to side as if he were watching a Wimbledon tennis match.

"What do you do for a living?" I asked Rafe.

"My family has bred racehorses since the Civil War but that doesn't pay the bills, unfortunately. Therefore, I've had to get a real job. I am an attorney, but don't hold that against me. Did I say something wrong?"

A lawyer. Of all the possible professions in the world, he had to be a goddamn lawyer. Ben's face tightened and I felt myself about to be sick. The only other attorney we'd ever been associated with was evil and corrupt. And because of me, he was very, very dead.

"We had a bad run-in with a shyster before we moved here, Mr. Montgomery," Ben said, his tone deliberately formal.

"Actually, we prefer the term attorney or lawyer." Rafe said. I sensed a note of testy defensiveness in his voice. "While I am sorry that you had an unpleasant experience in the past, but please do me the courtesy of remembering that not _all _of us are crooked. Don't compare me to your friend just because we are in the same profession--"

He got no further. In three angry strides, Ben stormed over to Rafe and was in his face. The two men stood eye to eye; I hadn't realized until then that Rafe, although built on a leaner frame, was the same height as Ben. However, a lifetime of riding horses toned his body into a deceptive wiry strength that Ben would do well to respect. A man doesn't necessarily have to lift weights and have a six-pack in order to kick another man's ass.

I had to give Sekhmet's owner credit—by his sheer size and demeanour, Ben was a very intimidating man but Rafe never blinked or retreated. He held his ground, eying Ben as calmly as if he had his personal space invaded all the time.

Ben poked his index finger sharply into Rafe's chest. "First of all, _pal_, Rich was not our friend. He was a murdering bastard who wanted to hurt my wife for his own pleasure. I'm glad she stuck a knife…"

"Ben, no!" I exclaimed before Ben could forget himself and spill the beans.

"Oh, right," Ben said, coming back to himself. "Christ! C'mon Sherry, let's go." He took my arm and propelled me to walk with him. I cast one look along my shoulder at Rafe, who frowned at me and shook his head before he turned back to tend to Sekhmet.

lll

"I hope you're proud of yourself," I said "You were horribly rude to a man who was only trying to be nice. Can you tell me why you are so upset when you should be happy? I mean, we won a lot of money today."

He jerked his arm out of my grasp. "I don't care about the goddamn money."

"Then why are you mad?"

"Why are you asking me? Ask your new boyfriend." Ben bit off each word with an almost audible snap of his teeth.

"What? New boyfriend? What are you talking about? I just met the man today!"

"Well, you and him seemed to hit it off very well for people who just met each other." Unexpectedly, Ben whirled around to face me. "He couldn't take his eyes off you and…I saw you lookin' at him, too. Don't deny it, Sherry."

My stomach was roiling unpleasantly and I was in no mood to humour him. "You're imagining things."

"Yeah, right."

"There's no need to be sarcastic, Ben. Rafe was only being nice to me because I wanted to see his horse."

"Don't lie to me, Sherry. We both know there was more to it than that."

Thinking it would lighten Ben's mood, I explained where I had seen Rafe before….And the circumstances.

"So, that's it. I married you, didn't I?" I said when I finished.

"Sometimes the man you want most in your bed isn't the one who put the ring on your finger. You should know that better than anyone. Or do I have to draw you a goddamn picture?"

I gasped. How could he say that? Then in less than a heartbeat later, the true meaning behind his words became crystal clear—he was referring to my photographed encounter with Richard. Despite the engagement ring on my finger, I gave a part of myself, my cunt, to another man, when it should have only been for him.

Up until this moment, the day had been perfect. Why did he have to spoil my fun by bringing up the past? Why was he being so selfish? I stomped my foot in a surge of childish anger.

"Only you would think that there is something between me and Rafe. My God, Ben, how can you be so goddamn stupid sometimes?"

I had gone too far and I knew it. Ben's face was flushed with anger at my thoughtless words and I was as afraid of him now as I had been on our wedding night. Ben raised his hand and I thought he was going to smack me for what I just said.

"NO!" I yelled, instinctively flinching and lifting my arm to protect myself from the blow I imagined was on its way. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw several heads turn in our direction and I was grateful because I knew that if people were watching, then Ben wouldn't be able to hit me again. This was the Deep South after all, and chivalry was alive and well here. I was sure someone would intervene on my behalf.

My heart was pounding in fear as I waited for my husband to hit me and I felt as if I would throw up. When the blow didn't come, I lowered my arm from my head and saw Ben take a step toward me.

I swallowed deeply and tried to breathe slowly and deeply to calm myself, but my body wouldn't obey. My knees would no long support my weight and I fell to the ground. I saw Ben's stricken face leaning over me; his lips were moving but I couldn't hear what he was saying above the buzzing in my ears. Sight and sound swirled together in a whirling kaleidoscope of colour and noise. I felt as if I were on an out of control merry-go-round. Darkness enveloped me like a warm blanket and I welcomed the black void.

The next thing I remember was waking up in a hospital room. Just like the last one, the room was cold, whitewashed, and smelled of antiseptic. A white-coated doctor came to my side but before he could speak, I did. "What happened?"

"My name is Doctor Francois Renault. How are you feeling?"

I stifled my impatience. The man was only trying to be nice. "Peachy. What happened?"

"You fainted. Did you eat anything today?"

I shook my head. "No…"

"When was your last menstrual cycle?"

I blinked my eyes rapidly, trying desperately to remember when my last period was but I couldn't. I had been so caught up in our new life here, I forgot all about it. "I don't know. I--I can't remember."

"Is there a chance you might be pregnant?" His eyes twinkled.

"Oh God….don't say that, not even as a fucking joke! I can't…I _won't _have this baby!"

The doctor looked at me strangely at my outburst. "Why not?"

I was filled with such shame I couldn't look at him as I explained my circumstances. "I was raped….so there is a good chance that my husband is not the father." The words were hard to think about, let alone speak them but I had to be realistic.

"I think the first thing we have to do is remember when your last menstrual cycle occurred and work backwards from there. Let me get a calendar and we'll figure this out together, all right?"

Under Doctor's Renault's guidance and gentle questioning, I did the best I could. It was as I'd feared, the estimated date of conception as the last weekend in September. Richard's party.

"Oh, please god, no, "I moaned. "I attended a party in my honour that Saturday night. Ben was going to join me later but before he arrived, the host…" My voice cracked and I couldn't speak.

Doctor Renault looked sad and he squeezed my hand sympathetically. "I'm very sorry, Sherry. However, there is still a chance that your husband is the father, isn't there?"

"I guess," I said reluctantly.

"I think that before you decide to do anything, you should discuss this with him. He's waiting outside. I'll send him in."

Doctor Renault was gone for a few minutes and once the room was silent, I had a chance to let his words sink in.

I was pregnant.

I was pregnant.

I was pregnant.

No matter how many times I said the words, it still did not register in my brain. The fact of the matter was, I did not _want_ to believe them. There was a fifty percent that Richard was the father and that was fifty percent too much for me. As I ran my hand over my womb, I had to resist the urge to slam my fist into it, to pound and slap the baby out of me while it was in its most vulnerable state.

If I gave birth, there was no way I could love this baby if it wasn't Ben's. I knew that every time I looked into my child's face, I would see Richard and remember how he'd raped me on his study sofa. I would remember the photos of the room in his basement where he planned to keep me prisoner. The locks on the doors. The delivery room. Scared and alone and hidden away in a damp, dank dungeon until it came time for me to be fed or fucked, whichever struck my captor's fancy first. And knowing Richard as I did, it wouldn't have been in that order.

I curled into a tight ball and cried.

Ben came into the room and kissed my forehead. "How are you doin', babe?"

"I might be pregnant," I said.

"I know. The doc just told me." There was a gleam in Ben's eyes that I had never seen before. He was happy. And I was angry. How the hell could this be good news?

Before Ben got too attached to the idea of impending fatherhood, I knew I had to snap him out of it as soon as possible. "I think I should get rid of it. Now. Before it's too late."

Ben's face whitened. "For God's sake, Sherry, think about what you're saying!"

The expression on my husband's face tore my heart in two. "Ben, please listen to me. The baby may not be yours, remember?"

"Yeah, I know what that bastard did to you," Ben snarled.

"That night, I told Richard to his face that if I ever carried his child that I would get rid of it," I said. "How can I be expected to look at this child and love it…? How can _you_?"

Ben was silent for a moment. He took my hand in his and placed it over my belly. "It don't matter if the father is me or…not. The most important is that this baby is a part of _you_. You are its mother. If worse comes to worse and if this baby turns out to be his, I will love this child as if it were my own."

"You mean that?" I wanted to believe him so badly but I had to be practical. Sure, it was easy for Ben to say that now but what if there came a time when he looked at my baby and hated what he saw? I was a mess of emotions, teetering on the brink of losing complete control. I didn't know whether to scream in anger or bawl in misery. "I don't know what to do!" I wailed.

"I do. This baby growing inside of you is a miracle, don't forget that. Please don't get rid of it." He gently took my chin in his huge hand and tipped my chin up so his warm blue eyes could gaze into mine. "It's your body and you have every right to do what you want with it. The final decision is yours."

"I don't know what to do," I repeated. I looked in my husband's eyes and saw the love that shone from them.

"I do," Ben replied softly. "You will have this baby and we'll raise it together." He chucked me playfully under the chin. "Don't worry, kid, I'll still love you even when you get so fat that I'll have to tie your shoes for you." He was purposely trying to lighten my mood and I loved the big lug even more than I thought possible for making the effort. "And just think," he said, giving me a smouldering look, "we'd better get in all the tying you to the bed and fucking you into the mattress that we can now because we won't be able to do that soon."

The doctor re-entered the room and announced his presence with a discreet cough. "I'd recommend being careful about that. At least during the first three months," he said, his eyes twinkling mischievously. In less than a heartbeat, his professionalism returned. "Have you made a decision?"

"What about adoption?" I asked. No matter what Ben said about the baby being part of me, I couldn't stomach the thought of looking at Richard's eyes over the breakfast table every morning.

"That certainly can be arranged," the doctor said. "But we have plenty of time before that has to be thought of. Until then, this is what I want you to do: eat plenty of fruit and vegetables and get plenty of rest. As for drinking and smoking, I suggest moderation. A glass of wine at night won't hurt you or the baby. However, when it comes to sex," he added, giving Ben a hard look, "Gentleness and consideration should be the rule of thumb. Do I make myself clear?"

Ben swallowed nervously and looked straight into the doctor's eyes. "Yeah. You have my word on that."

I spoke up, disappointment surging through every fiber of my being. "Does that mean that we can't be intimate…like we usually are?"

"That depends. If you usually are intimate with your husband by getting tied up or, er, how did he phrase it, 'fucking you into the mattress'? In that case, I would have to say no. You certainly can and should engage in sexual intercourse, but in a less strenuous method. It certainly does not mean that you are cut off from all sexual relations. Quite the contrary. In fact, many of my expecting female patients experience a surge in sexual interest and desire—they no longer have to worry about getting pregnant because they already are." Doctor Renault suppressed a smile when he saw Ben and I exchange relieved looks.

"However," he emphasized with an arch of his eyebrow, "certain precautions should be addressed now. You can safely engage in sex up to and including the eighth month or until it becomes uncomfortable for you. However, because of the size of your husband, I would strongly recommend that once you start your second trimester, you should be the one on top."

Ben winked at me. "Cowgirl style, huh? Yippie-ki-yay." He ducked just in time to dodge the pillow I threw at him.

lll

On the way home, Ben took my hand. "I'm sorry for the things I said at the stables. I never meant to get you so upset, babe."

I squeezed his fingers in return. "I'm sorry, too. Sometimes I just blurt things out before thinking it through."

"Both of us are guilty of that," Ben said. "The most important thing is that I get you home and into bed."

"Remember what the doctor said about crazy bedroom stuff," I teased. "For the time being, at least. We have to take it slow and easy, remember?"

"Yeah, I can handle that," Ben said, with a wink, a slow, lazy smile spreading across his face. I had been married to Ben long enough to know what that smile meant—sex. However, because of my condition and the doctor's warning, it wasn't going to be fast and furious. "Hell, I'll handle you any way I can get!"

"How about now?" I said coyly, lifting the shirt over my head.

"No time like the present," Ben said. His eyes glowed as he slowly slid the straps of my bra down my arms. I reached back to undo the clips when I felt Ben's firm hand gently persuading me to stop. "Let me do that," he murmured.

Slowly, so infinitely slowly, he removed my bra and let it fall to the floor. His gaze on my bare breasts was so deep and intense, I felt shy and almost raised my arms to cover myself.

"No, don't cover yourself up," Ben said. "I want to see you."

"Why? What are you looking at?" I asked.

"I'm looking at my beautiful bride and the mother of my child," Ben whispered, reaching up to stroke my face.

My throat tightened and I wanted to yell, "The baby might not be yours!"

But I didn't.

I couldn't interrupt this special moment and break my husband's heart... There would be a time for that when I gave birth but until then, I wanted to memorize the look of love that shone from his eyes like a palpable aura.

I removed the rest of my clothes and lay on the bed. I blushed in embarrassment when Ben leaned forward so he could have a clear, unobstructed view of my entire body from head to foot. I doubted that even my doctor had ever given me such a thorough once-over. He didn't have to tell me that he was looking for changes in my body that indicated pregnancy.

"I'm only two months along," I said. "It's too early to see anything yet."

"Don't be too sure, Sherry," Ben said with conviction.

"If anything were different about my body, don't you think I'd know? I see it every day."

"Not through a husband's eyes." Ben took my breasts in his hands and weighed them as if he were making a decision about which grapefruit to buy and I gasped. "Your breasts are a little larger than they were before, and they are tender to the touch." His calloused hand gently rested over my womb. "Your waist and belly are swollen. Haven't you noticed that your clothes are getting tight?"

I didn't answer. I had noticed all right, but I had assumed that it was because of the many new dishes I'd been sampling in my new home city. Jambalaya. Gumbo. Boiled, barbequed and fried crawfish. Even thinking about food now made my mouth water.

But above that was the desire for my husband. The man who forgave me for saying those cruel words today and every other occasion when I spoke before I thought about what I was saying.

Now it was my turn to touch and caress. "I need you, Ben," I said. "Please?"

Ben responded by giving me a kiss that was so scorching it made my toes curl. His hand was nestled between my legs as he stroked my aching clit to its hardest. As my desire rose, I whimpered and moaned, pushing my hips against his hand.

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When he moved into position, settling his body between my legs, I wanted him to slam into me over and over but he set a slow pace. Ben entered me gently and I was immediately reminded of the first time we made love—when I was recuperating after my suicide attempt.

"Faster," I whispered, my nails raking deep into Ben's back.

"I can't, babe," Ben said hoarsely. I felt his body shake with the strain of holding himself back. "I won't."

Wordlessly I begged him, unconsciously tightening my legs around his hips. I bucked against him, I wanted to slam my hips forward, making Ben deep-dick me until the explosion of climax extinguished the flame of arousal that seemed to sear my very skin. But my husband was in control, deliberately keeping the pace infuriatingly slow, until I could feel my pussy twitch and clench at every millimetre of motion, each tiny teasing thrust.

"No!" Ben said. With a loud groan of disappointment, he pulled out of me and ground his hips against mine until he climaxed against my belly. When he could breathe again, he rolled off me and onto his back.

"What did you do that for?" I asked crossly.

"I'm not gonna risk hurting you….or the baby."

"Well goddamnit, what about me?" I whined. Ben had had his orgasm but I sure as hell hadn't. I felt a surge of anger toward the _thing_ that Richard planted in my belly. I hated it already.

Ben would never know it, but when I begged him to go faster, it wasn't for sexual gratification; I was hoping that he would forget himself and use enough strength—like he did on our wedding night—and made me miscarry.

"Oh, I'm sorry, kid, I wasn't going to forget about you." He threw the blankets over his head as he burrowed along the bed until his mouth was over my pussy, preparing to chow down but I was too pissed off to be horny anymore, no matter what the temptation.

"Forget it," I snapped, pushing his head away. "Just go to sleep." I turned on my side away from him. In the dark, I heard Ben sigh. I forced my breathing to be slow and deep, letting him think that I was drifting off to sleep. As I lay quietly in the dark, I remembered the doctor's words and I formed an idea.

Like all men after sex, Ben fell asleep quickly. As soon as he began snoring, I tiptoed out of the bedroom, closing the door behind me. Once in the living room, I made a beeline for the liquor cabinet. I reached in and chose a bottle at random; it didn't matter to me what I drank, I needed something with alcohol in it, the stronger the better...I took the bottle with me to the sofa and sat down.

I held the bottle for a long time, trying to work up the courage to drink. Deep in my heart, I knew what I was going to do was wrong, but I hoped that once the alcohol was in my system, it would silence my doubts. I steeled my nerve and poured three fingers worth of vodka in the glass and took it neat.

I remembered what Ben had said earlier in the day about loving this _thing_ growing inside me as if it were his own…It was fine for him to think that, but who was going to be the one who was going to have to suffer through hours of labour? Who was going to have to nurse the goddamn thing as it latched onto me like a parasite feeding off its host? Who was going to have to change its shitty diapers?

In all cases, the answer was the same: me, me, and me.

"Yeah, real generous of you, Ben," I sneered quietly. I let my head rest against the arm of the sofa and relaxed. From time to time, I raised the bottle to my lips and drank. The alcohol effectively silenced the battle between my conscience and what I knew I had to do...

After I'd had enough about an hour later, I staggered to the kitchen sink and put the bottle under the tap. "The good thing about vodka," I muttered, my words slurring, "is that it looks exactly like water." Once the level was close enough to when I began drinking, I screwed the cap back on. A fit of giggles over my cleverness hit me and I clamped my hand hard over my mouth to stifle any sound of laughter. As long as I remembered to buy a new bottle of vodka soon, no one would ever know the old bottle was mostly water.

I had to think about my next course of action. How was I going to get rid of this baby? Under no circumstances would I go to a back-alley abortionist—I'd heard too many stories of women who were left barren because of an accidental slip of the coat hanger; more than anything, I wanted to conceive and bear Ben's children in the future.

No, there were other ways, I thought. If I couldn't drink it out, then my next step would be to starve it out. And in case those ideas failed, I could always "accidentally" fall down a flight of steps to induce a miscarriage.

One thing was clear: no matter what I had to do, whether it be boozing, starving, or falling, I was determined that there was no way I would give birth to Richard's baby.

When I flopped back in bed beside Ben, I began to cry. So I wouldn't wake my husband, I ground my face deeply into my pillow and wept. For what was probably the first and only time, I was glad my mother was dead. She would have been very ashamed for taking my revenge on Richard out on my innocent unborn baby. She'd raised me to respect life, not take it away because it was inconvenient. The hate she would have felt towards me was nothing to the hate I now felt for myself.

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Author's Note: As unbelievable as it sounds today, it is absolutely true that doctors in the 1950's approved smoking and drinking in moderation for expectant mothers!


	29. Confession

Confession

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the Sin City franchise and I'm not making any money from this. Unfortunately.

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After the massive hangover I had following my discovery of the unwanted baby I was carrying, I eased up on my drinking. Pregnant or not, I still had to go to school. And going to school day after day suffering from a hangover would not help me get good grades. Once Ben left for work at night, I would drink only a finger's worth of alcohol, maybe two. Over the next few weeks, the level of booze in each bottle was getting lower and lower. It was now the middle of December. I couldn't put it off any longer--I had to get some more now. Christmas was almost upon us and I knew that Ben would want to entertain his friends soon.

However, my clever plan hit a snag I hadn't foreseen. In Louisiana, while the state laws recognized and accepted the validity for a marriage license of an out of state fifteen-year-old girl, did not allow that same girl to buy booze.

One day after Ben left for work, I took a bus to another part of town where I hoped no one would know me. The shop was empty. I had worn a pair of oversized sunglasses and a scarf. Even if someone saw me, they probably wouldn't have recognized me.

"May I help you, ma'am?"

In my best grown up voice and demeanour, I told the clerk what I wanted. "Two bottles of Smirnoff vodka and one Beefeater gin, please. Oh, and I need some Cuban rum and Canadian Club as well."

"May I see some identification?" he asked. The moment I looked in his eyes, I knew that he knew that I had no business being there. We stood there, silently staring at each other.

"Well?" the clerk asked.

I was too humiliated to go on. I turned around and walked out, my head held high. After I left the liquor store, I cursed my stupidity. At the racetrack, I was too young to drink, so why didn't I remember that? Even though I was in high school, I didn't have many friends and the ones I did have, didn't have older brothers whom I could persuade to buy the booze for me.

Because of my single-minded determination to rid myself of the unwanted life I carried, the bottles that weren't drained dry were filled with water and iced tea mix. Ben would discover the truth the minute he went to get a drink.

What the hell was I going to do???

There was a wrought iron bench on the sidewalk and I sank down onto it. Angrily I tore off the scarf and dark glasses, hurling them to the sidewalk, not caring about the stares I received from curious passersby. I put my face in my hands and started to cry. I was old enough to be married and carry a baby but I wasn't old enough to buy a drink.

It wasn't fair!

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It took over an hour to get back home. As soon as I entered my apartment, I was already dreading the twelve long, lonely hours that remained between now and when Ben would come home. The time we'd spend together was brief and hurried, because I had to leave for school but until then, I would be completely alone.

Alone except for the parasite I carried within me. Angry at my failed attempt to purchase alcohol, I hit myself with the heel of my hand. Over and over, I pounded at my belly until it hurt too much.

As soon as I stopped, the horror and enormity of what I had just done overwhelmed me and I sank to my knees, bawling. "My poor baby," I moaned, resting my hand over my aching womb. I rocked back and forth, wishing I could take back the terrible thing I had just cruelly inflicted on what might be the only baby I would ever give birth to.

The guilt and grief eventually subsided but what my heart and soul needed now was forgiveness. Ben and I didn't live in the best neighborhood, but it did have a church and the doors were always open. We had gone there regularly on Sundays when we first moved here, but as time passed we stopped going.

Father Matt Brady was open-minded about some things but even he would be angry with me. However, no matter what he thought of me or how hard my penance would be, I had to try.

I remembered that filthy alley in Sin City when overwhelming desperation and grief drove me to attempt my own life. And I didn't want to do that; unlike that dark time, I now had two very good reasons to live—I was going to be a mother and I had the undying, unswerving love of my husband. For my baby's sake as well as my own, I needed to get salvation and piece of mind.

I walked to the altar, lit a votive candle, and crossed myself. I couldn't help but sob when I was done. I brought my hand to my mouth as I tried to prevent myself from losing control.

"Are you all right?"

I turned my head and saw an older matron at my side.

"I need to confess. Is Father Matt in?" I asked.

"No," said the woman. "He left to give last rites to a shut-in at a nursing home. Is there anything I can do?"

I shook my head and turned away. Being in this holy place was comforting. I sat down in a pew, trying to get myself together as I considered my next course of action. I was certainly in no hurry to get back to my lonely, empty apartment.

"Sherry? Is that you?"

I raised my head and saw Rafe Montgomery standing near me. He wasn't wearing riding clothes this time; he was dressed in a smart double-breasted navy business suit and the briefcase he was holding, although of very high quality, had definitely seen better days. He saw my scrutiny and grinned. "I can afford a lot better but I won't replace it. It belonged to my father." He saw my tears and was immediately concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I mumbled. "No one can fix what's wrong with me."

"I heard you fainted at the racetrack. Are you all right?"

"I'm pregnant."

Rafe's mouth curled up in a smile but I saw that the smile did not reach his eyes. "Congratulations. I am happy for you. I thought girls your age had better things to do with their time than come to church…for example, talk on the phone for hours or shop for clothes. What brings you here on a Wednesday night? Christmas isn't for another week."

I was too depressed to lie. "I've done some things to myself and I need…forgiveness. I wanted to give confession but Father Brady isn't here. Maybe that's a good thing. What I've done is unforgivable."

My companion's face softened. "I'm not as good a Catholic as my mother raised me to be, but even I know that if someone is sincere in repenting their sins, God will listen. And forgive."

"I know He won't listen or forgive! I'm surprised He didn't strike me dead when I crossed the threshold!"

"I'm sure what you've done isn't that bad." Rafe's smiled faded when he saw that I meant every word. "Is it?"

"Yeah. It is." I wanted to tell someone so badly about my awful secret but I couldn't bring myself to open my mouth. Hot tears scalded my cheeks but before I could raise my hand to wipe them off, I felt the gentle touch of a handkerchief dabbing the wetness away.

"I may not be a priest, but I am good at keeping secrets. Confidentiality is a big part of my trade and I promise that what you tell me will remain between us. As long as it's not illegal," Rafe added with a questioning look.

I shook my head. "What I've done is not illegal, it's immoral."

"Please tell me," Rafe said.

That simple request made the floodgates of my conscience burst wide open and I told him everything, omitting, of course, the involvement of Ben and me in Tom and Richard's deaths. I squeezed my eyes shut and even told him about the drinking and hitting myself. When I was done, I dared to open my eyes and was surprised to see that Rafe looked at me with sympathy and understanding. He did not pass judgment nor did he condemn me. His acceptance and forgiving nature made me cry again.

"I'm sorry," I blubbered, "I usually don't blab so much to someone who is almost a complete stranger."

"Stranger or not, it sounds to me like you've wanted to get that off your chest for a while," Rafe said.

"I don't have anyone else to confide in. Except my husband, but he knows all of it anyway. Except the part about the drinking, and….you know." I rubbed my belly.

"It's getting late," my companion said, looking at his watch. "Would your husband mind if I drove you home? This neighborhood can be dangerous after dark and I'd rest easy tonight if I knew you got home safe."

"Sure. I'd like that. If this part of the city is so dangerous, why are you here?"

"Despite the fact that I am a lawyer, I do honest work too. And no, that is not an oxymoron." A dimple flashed in the corner of his mouth.

I blushed as I remembered our last encounter at the racetrack.

"Seriously though, I do a lot of _pro bono_ work and my client lives in this area. Donating my services to the less fortunate is my way of giving something back to the community. Of course, I charge ridiculously high retainers to my more affluent clients, so it balances out."

I knew that he was making a sincere effort to lighten my mood and I was grateful.

He continued. "Speaking of balancing out, it was a good thing you couldn't buy any alcohol today because if you had, you wouldn't have come here and we wouldn't have run into each other. Come on, my car is outside and I'll drive you home."

It came as no surprise to me when I saw that Rafe's car was an older model Jaguar. Richard had owned one and like his, this car was also in pristine condition. Were lawyers automatically given a Jag when they passed the bar? I sank into the deep leather seat and let my thoughts drift as the warm air from the heater filled the car.

It wasn't long before we pulled up in front of my building.

"Think about what I said, Sherry. Tell your husband the truth. If he loves you half as much as I think he does, he'll forgive you."

I nodded reluctantly. What Rafe said was the same thing that my conscience was. But how would Ben take the news? He would have every right to be angry because I was trying to harm my unborn child; a child that might even be his, although I doubted it.

Thinking of my empty apartment made me sad and I got an idea. "Listen, why don't you come up for an hour or so? Ben's at work and won't be home until tomorrow morning. I'd like the company…that is, if you don't have anything planned?"

"No, I don't think that would be a good idea," Rafe said softly. He got out of the car, held the door open for me, and took my hand to help me out. "Goodnight, Sherry," he said, his hand holding mine longer than was necessary. Before I could comment on it, he reluctantly released me, cleared his throat and looked away. He said nothing as he walked me to the door.

I murmured a goodbye and entered my apartment building. As I searched for my key, I stole a look over my shoulder and saw Rafe was still standing there, watching me. I waved and he did the same before walking back to his car and driving away.

I locked the door behind me and realized that Rafe did the right thing by refusing to come over. I was reminded of the consequences of the last time I was alone with another man in my apartment--I'd lost a baby because of it. A part of my heart died that day and it still hadn't healed.

It didn't hit me until that moment that I hadn't told Rafe where I lived, or that I tried to buy booze. So, how did he know? I shook my head. I had more important things to worry about--telling Ben what I had done would be the hardest thing I ever had to do.

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The next morning, I called in sick to school. Then I waited for my husband to come through our door. His face lit up when he saw me and I hated myself. What I was going to tell him would wipe that smile from his face and replace it with anger and disgust. I steeled myself and confessed.

Ben took the bottle and held it up and his face fell when he saw how empty it was. "How long have you been drinking like this?"

"Since I found out about the baby."

Ben's jaw dropped. "You mean to tell me that you've managed to clean out our entire liquor cabinet in less than a month? Jesus Christ, Sherry!"

I was too ashamed and afraid to look at my husband as I confessed. I cringed and waited for Ben to strike me. Because, as God knew, I certainly deserved it for endangering the life of my innocent unborn baby.

"Babe, I ain't gonna smack you, although I certainly want….Aw, never mind. Come over here." Ben took my hand in his and led me to the sofa. "Please don't drink anymore, Sherry. And don't hit yourself no more, okay? For your own sake, if not for the baby's. Don't forget, you're hurting yourself, too." He put his hand over my womb. My belly was still sore and I flinched at his touch.

He looked so sad, I started to cry again. It seemed as if I couldn't do anything but cry today. "I don't know if I can do this, Ben!"

"Do what?"

"Carry this thing until it's born!"

"It's not a thing," Ben said gently, "it's a baby."

"But I'm _afraid_!"

"I know you are. But you won't have to go through this alone, I promise."

"What if he turns out to be as evil as Richard? Then what the hell will we do?"

"With enough love, the two of us should be able rid Richard's child of any bad things he might have inherited. Have faith, Sherry."

"I hate Richard so much for what he did to me. For what he was _going_ to do to me…"

Ben tilted my chin up so he could look into my eyes. "But in the good times, before he showed you his true colours, you loved him too." It wasn't a question. "How about this: we talk about him for as long as we need to and then we never mention him again."

I nodded. It was a fair request.

"Richard was a friend and more when I needed one. There were many times when if I was upset about something but didn't want to talk about it, he'd hold me, sometimes all night and never try to touch me. I'd cry on his shoulder, tell him what was bothering me. He'd listen and never judged me. He was a lot of things to me…father figure, friend, and lover. But after you and I got engaged, he changed."

"Maybe he thought you loving me was a passing thing and you'd snap out of it or something. When that didn't happen, he realized our love was for real."

"Yeah. I think he finally understood that I loved another man and whatever plans he'd had for me and him were never going to take place."

Ben frowned. "After we got married, he'd arrange all those poker games in his house, remember? When I'd had enough, he'd say, 'C'mon, Ben, don't rush off, stay for a while.' Then when I wouldn't, he'd laugh and tell Brown and Jones that the ball and chain—you—wouldn't like it and that I had to report home or I wouldn't get any sex. I knew he was provoking me, you know, trying to get my goat. Maybe he was hoping I'd take a swing at him and Jones and Brown would try to take me down."

"He said you lost a lot of money during those games."

Ben shrugged. "Yeah, I lost some, but I always made sure to quit before I got in too deep."

It hurt to ask, but I had to know. "How did he seem after I lost the baby?"

Ben sighed and turned away. "Kinda glad. Not because you were hurting or nothin,' but I'm sure he thought that you were going to leave me and he'd finally get his chance. Every day after you lost the baby, Rich'd say, 'Why are you even bothering to go home? Sherry's long gone. You killed her baby, why would she stay with a brute like you?' or somethin' like that. It was like a knife in my heart because I thought he was right. I hafta say that every time I came home, I'd stand in front of the door for a long time, wondering if you were going to be on the other side of it or if our place would be cold and empty, like he said. My heart would stop and when I opened the door and saw you were still there, it would start beating again. I've always wondered, though, why didn't you leave me?"

I put my hand on my husband's knee. "Because no matter what, I've always loved you."

Ben's reply was a howl of unbearable guilt and grief. "Our baby is dead because of what I did!"

"We're both to blame, it wasn't just you." I didn't say what was on both our minds: that baby could have been Richard's; just like the one I was now carrying. I put Ben's hand over my belly where a new life was slumbering and growing deep inside of me. "But we have another chance. Let's make the most of it."

"Amen to that," Ben said quietly.

That night I had another nightmare….

_I stood at the shoreline, shivering, as an icy March wind whipped across the beach, chilling my hands and face. My pregnancy was in its sixth month and my belly was sticking so far out in front of me, it looked like I was smuggling a basketball under my nightgown. _

_I wanted to find shelter and become warm again, but my feet seemed rooted to the damp, cold sand and I was unable to move. I was waiting for something, but what that something was, I had no clue._

_As before, a horrible stench wafted through the air and my stomach turned. That smell. That awful smell of death and decay filled my nose and seeped into every pore of my body. My clothes and hair were saturated and I felt I would never be clean again, not even if I bathed in boiling bleach. Only this time, the reek was stronger and I knew the reason why--I was going to confront two dead men this time, not just one. _

"_Well, well, well," Richard sneered. "I can't say it's a pleasure seeing you again." The black suit he had been buried in was still intact but the exposed flesh of his head and hands were showing definite signs of putrefaction. _

_His eyes gleamed as he spotted my advanced pregnancy. He reached out and touched my belly. I flinched when I felt the baby move sharply inside. It was as if my baby knew it was in the presence of pure evil and was trying to avoid Richard's touch. By the look on what remained of Richard's face, he felt it the movements too. "Strong little tyke, isn't he? That's my boy, all right. Feel him kick! He knows who his daddy is."_

"_It's not yours!" I yelled, pushing his hand away. _

"_Oh? How do you know?"_

"_Because I love this baby and as I told you on the night I ended your miserable life, I could never love anything of yours!" _

"_And do you remember," Richard shot back, "what _my_ dying words were?"_

"_Yes," I whispered. "You said Ben was a dead man." _

_Richard's corpse nodded in satisfaction. "That's right. And he will be, although not in the way that I imagined when I said it."_

"_Are you saying that Ben is going….going to die?"_

"_Precisely. Enjoy him you can, my dear, because you won't be able to play the role of loving wife for very long."_

"_When…how?" In my desperation to know more, I clutched Richard's arm, feeling the chill of the dead, icy flesh through his clothes. "Please tell me!"_

_I knew that Richard loved me in the past…perhaps, those feelings were not completely dead—even if the rest of him was. I could see that he was wavering; he wanted to tell me; he just needed a little convincing. In my former life, a whore had to be an actress—pretending she was feeling one emotion, when in reality, she wanted quite the opposite. Many times, I had had to adopt an "I-can't-wait-any-longer-to-be-fucked-by-your-massive-cock" attitude to arouse the john who hired me, even though what I really wanted to do was die from shame and revulsion. _

_I knew what I had to do to get the information I wanted._

_I softened my expression and sidled up to the man I once loved. I put my hand on his chest, sliding my palms against the expensive fabric. "I saw what was in your cellar," I cooed softly. "You made a special place for the two of us to be alone, cut off from the world." _

"_Did you like it?" he asked. _

"_Uh-huh. You thought of everything: magazines, books, clothes…and a colour TV! You bought me only the best. Much better stuff than that brute I married ever will give me in a million years." I knew Richard hated my husband and ridiculing Ben now would make the corpse in front of me see how much I missed getting the finer things in life. I continued on, my mind racing with ideas. _

_I playfully pushed at his shoulder. "You never left me anything in your will! I thought I meant something to you." To add to the effect, I pouted as seductively as only a dissatisfied fifteen-year-old girl can in order to entice a middle-aged man into giving her what she wants with a promise of illicit sexual pleasures. _

"_I'm sorry. I meant to…I just never got around to changing my will. Sherry, you will always mean the world to me," Richard murmured. I could tell by the look in what remained of his eyes that he was responding. Damn, I was good, I thought. But I had forgotten how astute he could be at times. Richard drew away and peered down at me. "Why should I believe you now? Give me one good reason."_

_I dropped my coy act in a heartbeat. I had the best reason already ready at the tip of my tongue and not one word of it was a lie. "On our wedding night…he raped me! He forced himself into my mouth, ass, and cunt…It hurt so much, I wanted to die!" I sobbed, as genuine tears of the still-fresh betrayal filled my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. _

"_I know, my love," Richard said quietly. "I know everything that bastard did to you. You suffered through so much. But you were so brave and so strong. I was proud of you." He wiped my tears away and it took every fibre of my being not to pull away. He put his hand around my shoulder to comfort me and I shuddered when I felt his cold flesh touch my arm. The tears I shed proved the validity of my words. An additional bonus was that no matter how much he hated me towards the end of his life, Richard could never stand to see me cry. _

"_Tell me how he's going to kick the bucket. Tell me everything so I can be there and laugh." I was lying through my teeth and using every bit of acting skill I possessed in order to appear to be absolutely sincere. But I needed one final clincher to convince my companion. "He killed our baby, Richard! Why won't you tell me how and when is Ben going to die?" _

_I had no idea if the child I had lost was Richard's, and I gambled everything on the hope that even in death, Richard did not know who the father had been. If he thought that the baby had been his, then the desire to share any information he had about Ben's demise would be irresistible. _

_Richard smiled and I knew I had won him over. He parted his rotting lips to spill the beans and as he did, Tom raised his fist and punched Richard hard in the mouth, making him stumble back. He tried to regain his footing in the wet sand but he couldn't. He landed ass-first on the beach._

"_I should have known better than to let you come with me," Tom snarled down at Richard. "I knew once you'd get near her again, you'd let your dick do the thinking for you. And I was right."_

"_Goddamn it, what the hell did you do that for?" Richard yelled. He turned his head and spat something wet and soft out onto the ground._

"_You idiot, can't you see what she's doing? She's playing you! She doesn't love you, she never will. She's just telling what you want to hear so she can get what she wants--which is information on how her beloved Ben dies. For an educated man, you can be fucking stupid sometimes. C'mon, our job here is done. We have to get back." _

_I resisted the urge to ask where they were going; if there was any justice in the afterlife, their destination would be Hell. But I had to know more. I had to know when my beloved Ben was going to die._

"_Please! Please, you can't leave me like this. When…how…?"_

"…_will my murderer die?" Tom finished, grinning evilly. He glanced at Richard who smirked back. "Should I tell her?"_

"_After what she just tried to pull with me? No way." _

_I didn't want to beg anything from these two, but this was the date and circumstance of Ben's last moments of life they were talking about. If getting the information meant that I had to go on my knees and give a blowjob to each of the creatures in front of me, I would do it gladly. _

_I lifted my chin. "I've given both of you a lot of pleasure in the past. Doesn't that count for anything?"_

_Tom cocked his head as he pondered the question. "That's certainly true, Sherry. I remember each and every time I came inside of you as my eyes rolled back in my head. I'm sure Richard could say the same and more so, because he's fucked you a lot more than I have. Yes, that does count for something in my book. Look at the lake and tell me what you see."_

_I squinted and looked over Tom's shoulder. "I see that the ice is melting and the lake should be free of it soon. Why? What does that have to do with anything?"_

_Tom looked sad. "There is still ice on the lake but it's very thin now, especially near the shore. Some kids can't resist getting in one last skate while they still can. It's unfortunate that children have a tendency to disobey their parents and the results can be very tragic. Two families in Basin City will soon learn that unfortunate lesson the hard way."_

"_What the hell does that mean?" I yelled._

"_I was your dad's partner and I was married your mother, Sherry. I heard from both of them that you didn't always listen to what they said. More often than not, you did exactly what they told you _not_ to do."_

_He was still talking in riddles! Because I was trying to make sense of his bullshit, I had been paying no attention to Richard during all of this and it wasn't until Tom finished that I discovered that he had edged within arm's reach of me. He grabbed my arm and yanked me around to face him. _

"_Give her one last kiss for the road," Tom taunted. "Show her what you're really made of."_

"_With pleasure," Richard growled lustily. He gave me a twisted smile and horrified, I realized what it was that he had spit onto the sand—because of Tom's punch, Richard had bit his tongue and the worms inside of his tongue were wriggling out. Without warning, his putrid lips crashed down on mine, claiming me as his own, his swollen, maggot-infested tongue pushing its way deep into my mouth... _

I woke up screaming and barely had time to lean over the side of the bed as nausea hit me with the force of a sledgehammer. My eyes watered as the painful heaves of my stomach didn't end until the entire contents of my stomach were on the floor.


	30. Ghost From the Past

Ghost of the Past

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the Sin City franchise and I'm not making any money from this. Unfortunately.

Author's Note: This chapter contains descriptions of torture as it includes an incident from Sherry's past. You have been warned.

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I was afraid that because my condition was beginning to show itself, it would make me a pariah in school but the gold band on the third finger of my left hand gave me instant respectability. There were other teenage wives in school and all were in their final year. Even though I was in grade nine and the only one who was pregnant, we bonded together.

Ben and I were invited to many parties and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. I totally abstained from drinking—I figured I had done enough damage to my unborn baby already. In fact, there were several times that I had to drive Ben home because he drank too much to drive. I didn't mind; neither did the police officer who stopped us once. I explained the situation and he let me off with a warning. He understood, stating that it was better to have an underage sober driver on the road than a drunk one of legal age.

I wasn't feeling very well on the night of the plant's Christmas party but Ben wanted to go, so I took a couple of Rolaids and hoped for the best. Being ill wasn't the only reason I was hesitant about going—the plant manager, Clem Jenkins and his wife Jackie would also be attending.

What if it turned out that I had slept with Clem? What would happen if he mentioned it to anyone attending the party? What would Ben do if Jenkins threw it back in his face that he'd paid for the use of my body all those months ago?

On the night Ben asked me to marry him, I asked him what he would do if we came across a former customer. He'd told me once that if happened, he'd knock that man's teeth down his throat if he made trouble for me. What if Ben made good on that threat?

Ever since Doris Brady's Sunday afternoon get-together, I'd been racking my brain trying to remember if I ever fucked a man by the name of Clem Jenkins, but I never had any luck. Of course, the reason for that could be that he might have given me a false name, if I was even given a name at all.

As soon as I saw his shifty, weasel-like eyes, I remembered Clem Jenkins. Oh, I remembered him very well, because what he did to me was something, I would never forget. I'd known violence on many levels and at the time, I grossly underestimated the perverted insatiability of the diminutive man who'd paid for my services on that night, a lifetime ago.

Jenkins was one of those men who liked to hurt women, especially hookers, but he took it a step further. Clem Jenkins didn't hire whores so he could fuck them—he bought them to beat and torture.

As for the owners of the fleabag hotels that he used, as long as he paid well to replace the blood-soaked sheets and mattresses, they were happy. There weren't too many brothels in Sin City where he could get the services he wanted, but as in all major cities in the U.S, if a man was willing to fork out the dough, anything could be purchased.

And since Momma was always looking to make a quick buck, she asked no questions and turning a blind eye and deaf ear to welts, bruises and whip marks--provided he didn't incapacitate the girl permanently, of course. If the whore he'd paid for needed more healing time than a week, that cost extra.

As I continued to stare at him from across the dance hall that had been rented for the occasion, I remembered our last meeting...

_His gaze darkened as his watery eyes looked over my body. It was as if I were a horse to be judged and examined, before being accepted or rejected. "Hell, you ain't much, but you'll do. I used to make my livin' breaking fillies and I haven't had the chance to do it in a long while. Ever since that uppity half-breed nigger-loving shyster sacked me." _

_I stared right back at him, not willing to show uneasy I was. Instinctively, I knew what he wanted, for I'd known men like him before. Men who liked to hear a woman scream in pain. More often than not, he wasn't able to get it up unless she did. But I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. No fucking way. Besides, I told myself, I'd gone through hell already—this couldn't possibly be any worse than the gang rape at the Roarke estate, right? _

_How innocent I was in my early days as a whore. How fucking naïve I was to the ways and wants of depraved men.. _

_The man told me to undress and get on the bed. Like the fool I was back then, I obeyed and asked no questions. I didn't think he could harm me—he was such a short man, barely topping my 5'1" frame. When I saw the riding crop in his hands, I giggled. I'd heard of men wanting to play horsie with a whore, I never thought I'd actually meet one._

_He became amused at me for finding the situation funny. He said nothing but his mouth curved up in what was supposed to pass for a smile and I felt a cold shiver run through me. I'd seen only one other man smile like that and that was Senator Roarke on the night I'd met him and his sons. _

_He raised the riding crop above his head and brought it down on my back, over and over again. Above the sound of my heart pounding in my ears was a malevolent cackle of unmistakable glee. But I would not give him one fucking inch. I clenched my teeth tightly together and kept the pain contained deep inside. _

_My resolution to remain silent was broken when he moved me so that my ass was sticking into the air. He lashed my buttocks hard and fast, but that wasn't what finally broke me. I froze when I felt the crop between my legs, hitting me, slicing at my cunt. Even that wasn't enough for him; he forced my knees wide apart so he could strike at the tender flesh inside my pussy lips. With each blow, scream after scream left my throat. I begged and pleaded with him to stop but I found that that only seemed to incite him to hurt me more. _

"_You findin' _this_ funny? I din't think you would. Now you know what I kin do, don't ya, whore? I ain't finished yet. No siree, not by a long shot. I gotta a lot more things to play with in that there bag of mine and coz' you laughed at me, I'm gonna make damn sure to use every one of 'em on you. Hell, I was gonna fuck you, but I think I'll get more pleasure outta hearin' you scream. Lookee here." _

_Proudly he brought the bag over so I could see what was inside. He took out each object and laid it on the nightstand. The more he brought out to show me, the more terrified I became. Unlike toys adults used for sex, these things were designed for one purpose—to bring pain to the recipient and sadistic pleasure to the user. A black leather whip, studded with metal hooks. A metal object that looked like a pizza cutter—designed to cut deep into human flesh. Nipple clamps. A hard rod to beat the soles of my feet. _

_I whimpered in despair. Until I was allowed to leave, I was trapped here until he was satisfied._

"_See? I even brought along a bottle of turpentine, so nothin' will get infected. Ain't I a gentleman for thinkin' of that? And just so yore screams don't bring the police runnin', here's something to quiet you down." With the practiced movements of a master, he put a ball gag in my mouth and fastened it on the back of my head. "There. Now the fun can really start…"_

As I looked at his smiling, leering face, I felt like I was going to be sick. I mumbled something to Doris about needing some air and I ran for the nearest exit. I emptied my stomach behind a garbage can. I stood still for a moment, knowing that my knees were going to give out. I had to find somewhere to sit, but there wasn't a clean place for me to do that. I knew the parking lot was close and I used the fence as a brace as I stumbled around in the dark. It took a while but I found our car.

I opened the window and lay in the back seat, letting the brisk air of a December night sweep across my overheated skin. I cold feel wetness under my armpits and across my back. The dress I had chosen was form-fitting and it felt as if it were constricting my lungs. I reached behind me and unzipped it, the zipper felt cold against my lower back. I took a deep breath and filled my lungs with the reviving air.

I closed my eyes and curled up on the seat. I must have drifted off to sleep; for the next thing I knew, I felt a man's hands cup my breasts. I smiled. I must have been sleeping more soundly than usual if Ben had taken me home, put me to bed and I hadn't woken up!

"What time is it?" I murmured.

"Time for me to take what I want…and time for you to lie back and enjoy it."

I bolted up, instantly wide-awake. That wasn't Ben's voice!

Jenkins pushed me back down on the seat and straddled my hips with his knees. "Well, ain't this nice. A pretty young thing like you just lyin' here, waitin' for me."

Like hell was I going to lie back and take it just because he said so! I had my baby's life to fight for. I reached up and clawed at his face with my nails. Even though it was almost pitch black in the car, I could see the shine of blood on his face.

"How dare you!" I hissed. "I am a married woman!"

"Once a whore, always a whore," Jenkins sneered. "Besides, you'd better be nice to me, girlie, because I can have your husband fired lickety split."

"No you can't," I replied, with a certainty I was far from feeling. "Roarke does the firing and hiring for this place, not you. You may run the plant, but you don't own it and trust me when I say that Roarke doesn't like others to make decisions without his permission. You dare not fire Ben without his say-so and you know it."

"You're real sure of yourself, ain't ya?"

Now it was my turn to be smug. "Ben and I know Roarke a lot better than you ever will, jerkoff." I couldn't resist in mocking him. "And it's 'aren't you,' not 'ain't ya.'"

"I'll be damned if I'm gonna sit here and let myself be insulted by a whore that's gotten too big for her britches, just 'cause she's got a damn ring on her finger!"

He slapped me hard enough to make my teeth rattle but I wasn't going to give up yet. But he had another trick up his sleeve. A deadly one that I hadn't foreseen.

I gasped when I felt the cold steel of a switchblade knife against my throat. To prove that he meant business and would not hesitate to use the weapon if I resisted further, he put enough pressure to break the skin and I felt hot blood slide down my neck.

"Now, I don't gotta tell you what's gonna happen if you keep this up, do I?" He moved back so he could trace a zigzag pattern between my breasts without breaking the skin. With one skillful swipe, the blade sliced through the bodice of my dress but Jenkins didn't stop there. He slashed my brassiere until it was nothing more than unrecognizable shreds. "It'd be a damn shame to scar them pretty titties of yours, but I will. Hell, if that won't gentle you down some, I'll have to get real serious and hurt that there bun you've got growin' inside of you."

I felt the tip of the knife press into my flesh just below my belly button and I panicked. "NO!"

"Shut your goddamn mouth, slut!" Jenkins snarled. "I'll tell you when you can talk. Just for that, I'm gonna teach you a lesson. Eenie, meenie, miney moe, where should I leave my mark on this 'ho?" Jenkins crooned in a singsong tone. "Just so you don't forget me, maybe I'll carve my name into those boobs of yours. Hey, that sounds like a good idea."

I felt my eyes fill with tears that spilled down my temples and into my ears and hair. I lay quietly beneath this maniac, afraid to move or even wipe my tears away for fear that if I moved without his permission, he would use his knife to cut deep into my breasts. When I had been a prostitute, I'd learned a thing or two about sadists and how their minds worked. Men like the one on top of me needed to hear how afraid I was. If a woman is afraid, that gives her abuser a feeling of power and control.

"Please…please don't hurt me," I whimpered. "I'll do anything you want. Anything."

"Oh, I know you will," Jenkins replied, cackling at my submissiveness. He had me right where he wanted me and we both knew it. I could feel his cock hardening as he ground his hips against mine. "As I recall, I didn't fuck you that last time. I should've, but I preferred to make you scream for laughin'. Tonight, I'm gonna take a diff'rent kind of pleasure."

With my baby's life at stake, I did not dare to resist or fight back. If I lay passive and quiet beneath him, then there was a good chance that he wouldn't get angry or use force. And if I was really lucky, his lust would be satisfied quickly. Men who were as worked up as Jenkins now was generally didn't last long.

I dug my nails hard into the fabric of the back seat when I heard a sound of a zipper being pulled down. My legs were yanked apart roughly and my dress was bunched up around my waist. I lay back waiting for his hard cock to violate my womanhood, to begin thrusting inside of me, making me pray for death.

But it didn't happen.

Instead, I felt a rush of cold air blast across my body as the car door was opened, nearly wrenching it from the hinges. I heard the sound of raised and angry voices coming from outside. Jenkins was yanked from me and thrown on the ground.

"It's okay, Sherry," Doris said softly. "Let me take a look at you. I want to see if you're all right."

"He cut my dress and was about to rape me…" I couldn't speak. I tried to cover my bare breasts with the tattered remains of my clothing. My teeth were chattering and I was shivering from shock. "He hurt me a long time ago, when I was a prost—I mean, when I still lived in Sin City. Oh God, if you hadn't come when you did…" It took all my resolve not to give in to the hysteria that was building inside of me.

"No one's going to hurt you. Give me your jacket, George; her clothes have been slashed to bits." With George looking over one shoulder and Ben doing the same over the other, Doris pulled my dress down to preserve my modesty.

George's dinner jacket still held the warmth of his body and it felt good against my frigid flesh. Doris put her arms around me and it had been so long since I'd been held like that by another woman, and Doris held me as gently as if she had been my own mother. I sobbed against her firm, comforting shoulder. When my tears subsided and I was calmer, Doris spoke. "Come on, Sherry, let's get you home and into a hot bath, shall we?"

"How did you know where…?" I asked.

"I saw you leave when you saw Jenkins. He left right after you did," Doris said. "I figured he was up to no good so I called Ben and George over and we followed you and heard every word. He pulls that stunt with the wife of almost every new employee. Tells them that if they don't do as he wants, he can and will fire their husbands. I'm sorry to say that some of those women believed his bullshit, but you and a few others have stood up to him. I think I don't have to tell you that he was pissed at your refusal and he would have hurt the baby."

"How did you know about that?" I couldn't help but ask.

Doris smiled, her eyes crinkling prettily at the corners. "I've given birth to five children, Sherry, and even though a woman may not be showing, there is a certain look on her face that says it all. Men don't notice these things, only women do. Besides, at the buffet, you were only eating crackers and drinking ginger ale--that's a sure sign of morning sickness and I put two and two together. How far along are you?"

"About three months."

"Congratulations. A couple's first child is special. I wish the best for both of you."

"Babe, how are you?" Ben's face peered over Doris' shoulder as he tried to see me. "That bastard didn't do anything to you, did he?"

Jenkins made the mistake of speaking. "I wasn't gonna hurt her!"

"You said that you were going to take the knife and hurt my baby if I didn't do what you wanted!" I said, my voice trembling with the fear I still felt. I pushed my hair aside so that everyone could see the thin cut on my neck and the trail of blood. "You cut me!"

"I wasn't gonna take it very far…I was just gonna feel you up."

I wasn't going to let him get away with that bull. "Liar! You've got a hard-on that is going to split your zipper."

Clem had just been caught in two lies and knew better than anyone that he was screwed. His watery eyes narrowed as he looked at me and he jutted his chin at me defiantly. "You never told me no, you said that you'd do anything I wanted."

"That's because you had a knife to my throat and told me you were going to hurt my baby!"

"Coercion is not consent, asshole," George said, his manner all the more frightening because he was calm.

"You are going to pay for what you tried to pull, dickhead!" Ben snarled. He grabbed Jenkins by the scruff of his neck and hauled him around to the front of the vehicle. "I'll...teach...you...to...touch...my…wife, you...inbred…Cracker!" After each word, Ben slammed Jenkins' face hard onto the hood.

"Ben, don't!" George Brady grabbed Ben around the shoulders but Ben shook him off.

"Get the hell away from me, George, or I swear to God…"

"I know how you feel, Ben, but this isn't the way!"

"Like hell you know how I feel! Have you ever had to comfort and clean your wife after she's been raped? _I_ have. I'm gonna make this bastard crawl on his belly like the worm he is and beg Sherry's forgiveness before I'm done with him!"

"If you kill him, you're gonna end up in jail! You've got a baby on the way….who's going to take care of Sherry while you rot in prison for the rest of your life? Think about it…Your boy needs his father and your wife needs her husband."

It was time for me to say something. "Please, Ben, he's right! I can't raise our baby by myself…let the law take care of Jenkins. You've done enough."

Jenkins groaned and got to his feet. "I'm gonna make sure that your ass gets thrown in jail, mister," he hissed at Ben, after spitting out a mouthful of blood and teeth. "You ain't never gonna see that baby of yours, I'll make sure of that."

George Brady drew back his fist and gave Jenkins a punch that sent him sprawling against the car. He slid to the ground but did not get up.

"Runty little bastard has a jaw like concrete," George said, shaking his hand and flexing his fingers. His eyes fell on me as I stood there shivering in the cool night air. "C'mon Doris, let's get this young lady to her bed. She's going to catch her death if she stays out here much longer."

The wail of a siren broke into the stillness, the cruiser's headlights illuminating the scene. I clutched George's jacket closer around me but there were torn bits of my dress that hung out below the lower hem.

The cop took in everything about the scene in one glance—my torn dress, the knife and held his peace.

Jackie raced out of the car and dropped to her knees beside her husband. "What have you done to him?" she shrieked. Without waiting for a reply, she continued to rant. "I'll have you all arrested for this! See if I won't…" She helped her husband from the ground.

"I'm afraid I'll have to take you all in for questioning," the officer said.

"No!" Ben stated. "I did it. Just me. Take me in, but let these good people go. That bastard," he snarled, pointing at the prone form of the plant manager, "tried to rape my wife. Look at her dress! Please, sir, let her go home? She's pregnant and the stress of what almost happened to her tonight isn't doing her any good."

The officer looked at me and saw how young I was. He raised his eyebrows and whistled, giving me a lopsided grin that made my cheeks burn with anger.

"I want to come with my husband!" I shouted, going forward until Doris held me by the arm. In too many nightmares, I had seen Ben being taken away by the police and I wasn't about to just stand by now and do nothing.

Doris came up to me. "Ben's right, you need to be in bed, and a crowded police station isn't the place for you. I'll take you home. Ben won't be alone, George will go with him. Everything will be fine, trust me."

"Don't worry about me, babe," Ben said, kissing the top of my head. "I'll be all right. I'll be home before you know it."

The last view I had of my husband was as he was being handcuffed and put in the back of the cruiser. Not caring about anything else, I fell to my knees on the ground and began sobbing. I was hardly aware of being picked up, brought home, and put into bed.

Doris had stayed the night with me although neither of us got a lot of sleep.

lll

Sitting over coffee the next morning, Doris and I were both shocked when Ben came striding through the door at ten thirty with George at his side.

We were informed that there would be no assault and battery charges against Ben. Clem Jenkins was dead, killed by his wife. I hastily made breakfast for the two hungry men and waited, barely concealing my impatience for them to finish their meal and tell me what had happened.

Since George knew the most, he spoke. "I heard from the cops that as soon as Jackie and Clem had arrived home from the police station, she'd told him that she was pregnant and he began to beat her. After punching her a few times, he came after her with his knife, yelling that she was going to have to get rid of it. For probably the first and only time in their marriage, she stood up to him, but that only made him madder. She brained him with an iron and kept hitting him until he stopped moving."

"We've seen the bruises on her for years," Doris said. "All through their marriage, she'd been beaten by him many times before but never told anyone. She was pregnant once before with twins, but lost them when her husband threw her down the stairs one night because she didn't have his dinner ready when he came home. Like all women who have had miscarriages, she couldn't bear to lose another baby. Nor could she bring herself to get an abortion. That's probably why she fought back. She'd had enough."

"Will she go to jail?"

"No jury in this state will find her guilty. She was only protecting herself and the life of her unborn baby." Doris checked her watch. "Well, if George wants clean clothes for work next week, I'd better get home and start on the laundry. Besides, I think these newlyweds want to be alone. Remember how we were at that age?"

George smacked his wife playfully on the ass. "Sure do. Hell, girl, I need a shave and a shower. Wanna save some water and take one with me? "

Doris rolled her eyes and gave me a 'boys will be boys look' but the gleam of desire and interest in his suggestion was still there. Looking at the interaction between them, I hoped in my heart that Ben and I could joke around with each other when we had been married that long.

George and Doris said their goodbyes and Ben and I were alone together. I gave him the hug that I'd wanted to since he came through the door.

"Hey kid," he protested, "I'm back safe and sound, aren't I?"

I buried my face in my husband's shirtfront. I couldn't say anything. I debated telling him about how I'd met Jenkins but decided not to. Sin City and everything that happened there was my past—New Orleans was my future. It was less than two weeks until Christmas and I wasn't going to dampen my spirits by remembering events which would only give me pain.

The next morning, I awoke to find my husband giving me a massage. All the stress that I had been feeling for the last twelve hours seemed to melt from my bones, leaving me relaxed and aroused.

"What was that for?" I asked sleepily when he was done.

"You needed it," Ben said. "Lemme ask you something. You knew Jenkins, right? I mean, in Sin City?"

"Yes, but he didn't fuck me. He beat, whipped, and tortured me. If you can think of anything to do to a woman that will cause her pain, he probably did it to me."

"I've never seen any scars…"

I scoffed. "He knew how exactly how to hit me so he wouldn't not leave any. That's why Momma let him use her girls. She didn't want us ending up scarred and ugly after he was done. He paid her a mint and she kept her mouth shut. I'm glad the bastard's dead." I could feel myself starting to get angry and Ben took the hint.

"Forget about him, Sherry. This is all about you."

"What is? Oh!" I shrieked when I felt Ben's hot tongue encircle my clit. My legs spread wider as I felt his broad finger curl upwards inside of me, stroking my g-spot. In the exquisite pleasure that I experienced, nothing further than the sheets mattered to me.

I reciprocated by deep-throating Ben's rock hard cock until my nose was buried in the rough, coarse hair around his dick. I inhaled the smell of utter maleness that emanated from him and wondered how a worthless whore like me ever got so lucky as to find a good man like him.

lll

Christmas morning saw Ben and I begin the day with a slow, lazy fuck. I was starting to really show now so we had to take things easy in bed. But taking it easy didn't mean we still couldn't have fun!

We'd both agreed that any gifts we decided to buy should be for the baby. However, I was surprised and delighted when I unwrapped a box and found a strand of pearls inside.

"George told me that he gave his wife this when she gave birth to their first child. I know I'm six months too early, but with the bonus we received at work for fulfilling that contract, I figured what the hell."

I shyly pulled out a present that I'd stashed behind the tree. "I couldn't resist getting you something either." It wasn't much, a knee-length black leather trench coat; much like the one he'd given me the night of Richard's death to cover my blood-spattered dress. We hadn't been able to take it with us and I thought Ben would like it.

"Babe, you're the best," he said, a warm smile lighting up his face and taking years away from him.

Thus began our first Christmas together. It would also be our last.


	31. This is NOT another chapter

This is NOT a New Chapter

I hate to disappoint my loyal readers, but this is not another chapter. This is, however, a notification that I had hit a MAJOR writer's block in "Sherry's Story." To be completely honest, I do not have a clue as to what to write for this next chapter.

Ironically enough, I do know where to go with the next one but as I said, I don't know where to go for the chapter that follows Ben and Sherry's first Christmas in New Orleans. I do know what will happen in this March of their married life.

This is what I must ask my readers: if I skip ahead in the timeline to March, will that be all right? I'd really like some feedback on this, as this is a course of action I am seriously considering.

Or, if that isn't acceptable, could I please get some story ideas???? Like I said, I am completely stumped as to what should happen. Asking (let me be honest and call it what it is: begging!) for ideas from my readers is a situation in which I have never found myself before and is a completely new experience!

Anyone who is currently reading this story and want to discuss this with me, feel free to email me at . I will welcome any and all criticism, even if it is a flame. Note: this format won't let me put my email addy in the usual way so I had to be creative. AgentSekhmetathotmaildotcom.

Sincerely,

Linda


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